


A Singular Honour

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 2nd Age - Pre-Rings, Canon - Non-canonical to good purpose, Characters - OOC to good purpose, Other - Freeform, Writing - Clear prose, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Every word counts, Writing - Good use of humor, Writing - Well-handled dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2008-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3753058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If you go down to the woods today

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Somewhere in the woods deep in the Mendips, England, 2007  
  
A forest is seldom silent. It may appear to uneducated ears that there is no noise, but if one were to sit or stand quietly in the midst of the trees, one would hear all sorts of activity. Not least from the trees themselves. Not that there are ears to hear or understand their speech in this modern age.  
  
A rustle in the undergrowth could mean some small animal like a squirrel or mouse was foraging for food, or perhaps running from some predator. Or it could just be a rotting branch finally falling from one of the trees after a heavy storm or the rustling of the leaves in the wind.  
  
Then again it could also be the sounds of clumsy human movement through the vegetation.  
  
She cocked an ear towards a loud rustling noise somewhere off to her left and sighed. One of the lads playing some joke or something no doubt. Well she wasn’t going to play their pathetic little hide and go seek games; she was going to sort her feet out if it killed her. With that in mind she took her Kevlar helmet off, laid it down on the ground and unslung the SA80, carefully propping it up against one of the trees.  
  
A random thought popped into her head from somewhere to the effect that if it was a real war, she’d have to keep going, blisters notwithstanding, but she squashed it ruthlessly. This wasn’t a real war; this was a training exercise on a Fieldcraft course. Somewhere not so far away behind these trees there was a pub and a warm bed with blankets. Tears of longing sprang into her eyes. There would be pub grub, a brandy and coke and a warm bed, so near and yet so far away.  
  
Doing this course had not been the best idea her unit Training Officer, Major Bradley, had ever had in his life. Of course at the time he had been frustrated by the ambiguous nature of the orders that had come down from Divisional HQ with regard to Field Training of female Senior NCOs.  
  
A week earlier in Royal Regiment of Fusiliers Company HQ office, England 2007  
  
“I can’t believe they’re suggesting this.” Bradley dragged an irritated hand through his already very short hair. “They absolutely know that we are stretched to our limit what with half of the unit gone to serve in Iraq, and now they want to deplete us of the rest? What the devil do they think that training the women in Fieldcraft is going to do? The next thing we know they’ll be sending them over as battle casualty replacements.”  
  
Warrant Officer 2nd Class Knowles, the unit’s Chief Clerk glanced up from the mound of Part Two Orders on his desk. “There are a fair few women over there now anyway.” He said evenly. “I don’t suppose it’ll hurt to get our lot trained.”  
  
Bradley swung around abruptly and stared at him. A slow smile spread across his face. “Really Chief? Well in that case perhaps you would care to nominate one of your own orderly room staff for this singular training honour. Whoever it is will get a promotion out of it. That’s if they’re up to snuff.” His tone suggested that he rather doubted the ability of any of the deskbound military clerks to cut it when it came to real soldierly activities.  
  
Knowles returned the smile with a bland one of his own. “As it happens Sir, I have just the person. Sergeant Freeman?” He got up from the desk and stuck his head around the door into the back office where his clerks worked.  
  
A fair-haired woman in her thirties glanced up from where she had been frowning horrifically at the computer screen. ”Yes Chief?”  
  
He beckoned. “I have a task for you Sergeant. The honour of the unit Orderly Room is at stake here. Not to mention mine.”  
  
Kim Freeman gave something between a groan and a sigh. Whatever this was, it did not sound like a good thing. However one simply didn’t just turn around to one’s boss and say that one didn’t want to do something.  
  
At least one didn’t if one was a professional soldier in the modern British Army.  
  
ooOoo  
  
And now here she was. Stranded in some dark forest with a personal ration pack Menu C, her personal weapon and a pair of feet that felt as though they had turned entirely into two giant blisters.  
  
“Thank you very much Chief.” She snarled as she slid down into a sitting position on the damp forest floor and unlaced one of her combat boots. Somewhere, way off in another part of the forest, she could hear sounds of frantic activity. That would be her training group busily preparing to make camp before the night exercise started. Once she’d sorted her feet out she would join them in digging the six-foot slit trenches demanded by the obviously insane and irrational Staff Instructors on the Fieldcraft course. Oh the joys of being a modern soldier.  
  
“Why the fuck they have to be six feet deep when I’m only five foot four is anyone’s guess.” She grumbled and then winced. In the act of peeling her sock away from the blister, she had also peeled away what felt like the top four layers of skin as well. “Damn, that fucking stings like hell.”  
  
It wasn’t a pretty sight. Eight miles of double marching up and down the Mendip hills in full kit with her weapon and a full backpack had taken its toll on her feet. In fact it had taken its toll on just about every other part of her as well. She had bruises on her bruises and aches in places she didn’t even know she had.  
  
To add insult to injury they had been made to do their annual personal weapons test straight after the forced march, in her case with a weapon that was not her own and then they had done four miles of section attacks through the rough moor land. It wasn’t until the Instructors had screamed at them to “Get down, get down, get down!” because the trainees were supposedly under attack from enemy forces, that they very magnanimously warned the troops that there were potentially poisonous adders in the grass. This information was accompanied by snickers ill hidden behind hands.  
  
Was getting up to Staff Sergeant worth all of this torture? Well the answer had to be yes, because Staff Sergeants didn’t usually get lemoned with horrible courses like this. As a Staff Sergeant she would be posted out of her current unit and hopefully somewhere where she could have a cushy life. Ministry of Defence Main Building in Whitehall sounded like a bloody wonderful option. There were bars and restaurants, theatres and cinemas, food, wonderful food.  
  
Her stomach rumbled painfully and her heel stung like the blazes as she carefully cleaned it as best she could with an antiseptic wipe from the small First Aid kit in her webbing. Why on earth did she have to think about food when she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the promise of a half heated up chicken curry and the delights of digging trenches facing her?  
  
Peering through the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of her bun, Kim carefully applied one of the thick large plasters over a wad of lint and hoped that this would provide some barrier between the raw, bleeding flesh and the heel of her boot, then she methodically started on the other one.  
  
Once she had sorted them out and put her boots back on she stood up very carefully and took an experimental step. Yep, that felt okay, at least it would hold out until the end of the night exercise anyway. She undid the wayward bun and put the hairgrips into her webbing. It was time to get business-like. There was no place for neat and tidy barrack dress hairstyles in this dank earthy forest of rustles and whispers; this was a no-nonsense hair situation. She scooped up her now lank, sweaty hair and twisted it through the elastic into a rough ponytail, jammed the helmet back on her head and picked up her weapon.  
  
It was time to get back to the war.  
  
She had only been walking a short distance along the rapidly narrowing pine needle strewn path when it suddenly opened out to a small clearing, in the middle of which was the blackened remains of a small fire. Hikers. She thought. Probably stopped for a quick barbecue. Her stomach instantly reacted to the word barbecue with a groaning rumble, however growing, gnawing hunger was not the only dilemma she was faced with in the clearing.  
  
The path certainly continued on from there, but to her dismay, she now had to make a choice. Not one, but two paths led from the opposite side of the clearing. They both seemed to go the same way at first but because the bracken had partially grown over them, it was impossible to see whether either diverted in a different direction without actually walking down them first.  
  
“Bollocks.” Kim stopped and wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a trail of dirt down one cheek.  
  
She put her head on one side and tried to ascertain which direction the earlier noises had come from, but all was now very quiet. A little too quiet. She frowned. The sudden silence didn’t make sense, unless of course the group had been called to stand to in the middle of making camp. She strained to listen for something – anything - and was rewarded by the distant sound of water chuckling merrily away to itself as it splashed over stones somewhere off to her right.  
  
It obviously wasn’t that direction then, the group were hardly going to make camp in the middle of a stream. It stood to reason then that if she took the left-hand path she was bound to hit the camp at some stage.  
  
Of course the sound of running water had now awoken yet another bodily urge in her, just as urgent as hunger but one she couldn’t ignore. She needed to pee. Badly.  
  
Seeing to the call of nature when dressed in full combat clothing was fraught with difficulties. Once she had found a convenient bush behind which to do the deed, she then discovered that pulling down trousers that were firmly tucked into high laced up boots and squatting to pee meant a balancing act worthy of Cirque de Soleil. She finally solved the problem by grabbing hold of a solid looking branch and holding on for grim death while the contents of her bladder splattered out over the soil, her boots and part of her trousers.  
  
Once she had finished, she stood up and rummaged for a tissue in her pockets and hoped to god that the combat jacket covered her bare arse. “Oh for fuck’s sake Kim don’t be an idiot. Who in hell’s name would be out here in the middle of a forest peeping at you peeing, you silly bint?”  
  
Of course there was no coherent answer and all she could do was hope against hope that her erstwhile training companions weren’t hiding behind nearby bushes sniggering at her situation. She dried herself as best she could and pulled up the trousers, but as she did so, she spotted the gleam of something metallic half hidden in the thick cushion of pine needles beside the bush she had used as the toilet.  
  
“It’s nothing. Probably a coke can or something.” She said to herself.  
  
But somehow it looked different from a discarded soft drink can. She reached out and tentatively poked through the tangled lower branches of the bush until her hand touched the half concealed object. As she had thought, it wasn’t a coke can. The metal felt slightly warm for some reason and although it had sunk somewhat into the soft earth beneath the needles, she managed to feel around it and discovered that it was spherical, solid and a few inches long at least. Her quest to rejoin the other trainees momentarily overtaken by sheer curiosity, she hunkered down and started to loosen the object from the earth.  
  
She had only been digging a few seconds when a burst of raucous laughter and some shouting suddenly split the moody silence that had spread around the forest and her head reared up at the sound. There was a discordant note in the laughter that she didn’t recognise as coming from any of her companions and the shouting sounded more than a little panicked. The snapping noises of breaking branches and carelessly trampled bracken heralded someone hurtling through the bushes and it made her pick up her weapon and stand up abruptly.  
  
The figure covered in blood scrambling through the thick bracken towards her was barely recognisable as one of her instructors and as he hurtled closer, she became aware that he wasn’t alone. Someone was following him, or more accurately chasing him, although they hadn’t yet come into sight. The instructor’s gaze was wild and filled with terror, but he was focussed enough to recognise Kim’s frozen figure directly in front of him.  
  
She reached a hand out to help him as he got to her, but to her astonishment and bewilderment, instead of grasping onto it, he grabbed her by her shoulder and virtually threw her away to one side with all the strength he possessed. The gun was literally snapped out of her hands by grasping branches and flung a few feet away into the thick vegetation as she thudded onto the ground and into a thicket of bushes not far away from her toilet bush.  
  
The instructor carried on running, but he managed to gasp out what was to be his last instruction in this life. “Stay down. Stay down Sergeant and don’t bloody move whatever you do, not a sound. That’s a fucking order.” He rasped.  
  
She looked up from her prone position and opened her mouth to ask the most obvious question, but before she could speak, a strange whistling sound accompanied by at least three dull, thick thuds stopped her.  
  
For a moment the instructor’s eyes opened wide and she stared back at him with her mouth open, then he slowly dropped to his knees in front of her on the soft needles. His face grew slack and the final expression in his eyes before they emptied of life was vaguely surprised, as though those last moments were the most unexpected he had ever experienced. Kim started back in utter horror as he fell face down, not more than five feet away from her with three thick ebony fletched black arrows protruding from his back.  
  
A brief silence once again enveloped the forest for a few seconds, then heavy footfalls interrupted it again as they approached hers and the instructor’s position.  
  
Mindful of the instructor’s last order and his rather horrific death, she tried to stay as still and as silent as she could, but her ragged breathing sounded loud even to her. Her heart was thundering in her chest and she could hear the rushing of blood in her ears. There was an odd metallic taste in the back of her throat and she felt an overwhelming urge to vomit. Somehow she just couldn’t get her mind past the fact that someone had literally died in front of her.  
  
As she pressed her face down into the ground and hoped to hell that her clothing and the vegetation would conceal her from whatever had killed the instructor, she could hear the noise of heavy, nasal breathing not far away. She also heard a guttural grunt and what sounded like metal and leather rubbing together so she gathered up her courage and ventured a quick look.  
  
The strangest, most horrific looking creature was standing only feet away from her. He wasn’t that tall, but he was broadly built and dressed in a weird assortment of what appeared to be some kind of armour made of rough leather and dull grey metal. The powerful, muscular legs were bare but he wore heavy iron shoes on his broad feet.  
  
What hair he possessed was long, coarse and stringy. It may have been black in colour but it was difficult to tell since it was caked with what looked like dried red mud. Kim couldn’t see his face because he was bending over the instructor’s lifeless form, but she could see the huge quiver strapped on his back. It was filled with the fellows of the black arrows that were sticking out of the dead instructor’s back. She could also see that he held a huge sword in his hand.  
  
Armour? Swords? Bows and arrows? If she had wandered into some re-enactment then they were taking it far too far, but it couldn’t be that. This creature didn’t even look human.  
  
Even as the frantic thoughts crowded her stressed brain, the horror wasn’t over. The creature lifted up the instructor’s head by its short hair and with one deft swipe, severed it from the torso, then he picked up the headless body and effortlessly slung it over his shoulder, almost like a hunter would carry a deer he had culled for food.  
  
He bent down, picked up the head with one large hand and threw it almost casually into the thicket where Kim lay in breathless, terrified silence. It rolled towards her and the instructor’s dead eyes stared accusingly into hers, but she didn’t dare move; she couldn’t move in fact. However she did involuntarily take in a sharp, shocked breath.  
  
For the longest moment in Kim’s life the creature – she couldn’t think of him as a man - stood where he was, his sharp gaze sweeping the area as if checking for further prey. He had turned slightly to face her position so she finally got her first look at his face and her heart nearly stopped dead.  
  
His features were broad and brutal. She could now see that his ears came to a graceful point, which was in direct contrast to the coarse features and narrowed glittering black slits of his eyes. His nose was broad and spread over his face as if it had been broken many times and his thin-lipped, half open mouth was filled with sharp blackened teeth. A smear of something dark and shiny clung to the side of his mouth and Kim got the sickening impression that it might have been fresh blood. She didn’t want to wonder about where that had come from.  
  
She stared at him in horrified fascination, unable to tear her gaze away and as she did so, he literally sniffed the air and made a guttural grunting noise deep in his throat. His black fathomless gaze finally alighted on the very thicket where she was lying and she held her breath.  
  
He can smell me. She thought in panic and fear. I think he can smell that I’m here.  
  
For a moment it seemed as though she had been discovered. He took a step towards her and got as far as the toilet bush where she had been digging only minutes earlier. The creature looked down and apparently saw the partially uncovered metal, but instead of bending down to examine it more closely, he stepped back with a look akin to fear and disgust in his eyes and came no further in her direction. Whatever he had seen buried there in the earth had made him afraid for some reason.  
  
After sweeping the area again with one look, he stalked off with his prey and disappeared in the same direction both he and the instructor had previously come from.  
  
Kim made herself wait for a long time, until she was sure that he was well out of sight and then she raised herself painfully to her knees.  
  
The bile she vomited up spattered on the vegetation and the tears that had been forming a reservoir behind her eyes spilled over and down her cheeks like hot rain.


	2. Theirs not to reason why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.

“Forward, the Light Brigade!”  
Was there a man dismay’d?  
Not tho’ the soldiers knew  
Someone had blunder’d:  
Their’s not to make reply,  
Their’s not to reason why,  
Their’s but to do and die:  
Into the valley of Death  
Rode the six hundred.  
  
From: The Charge of the Light Brigade  
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson  
  
The bedside lamp cast a muted glow over the face of the woman lying pale and still on the hospital bed. One small hand lay over the sheets and rested on the counterpane, but was not unmarked. Major Gary Matthews could see, even from where he was standing, that it had been scored by long sharp branches during her haphazard flight of terror out of one of the more deserted areas in the Forest of Dean.  
  
She had stumbled into the village of Whitecroft at the southern end of the forest in an extreme state of shock and practically incoherent. Unable to make any sense out of her hysterical tale, the police had then taken her to Lydney for hospital treatment prior to proper questioning. She currently lay in a small side ward with a police constable sitting outside the door.  
  
“How is she?” Gary kept his voice low since it was only three in the morning and most of the hospital was asleep. The corridors were softly lit and silent. Only those staff unfortunate enough to be on night duty occasionally made an appearance walking with soft footfalls.  
  
Detective Inspector Alun Davis, who had been waiting for the British Army representative who was also the Adjutant of Sergeant Freeman’s unit to arrive, spoke in soft tones. “She’s not badly hurt. More bumps and bruises than bad injuries, but she is in shock so they’ve given her a sedative. She’s mostly been asleep since they did that.”  
  
Gary sighed heavily. “Do we know what happened to her?”  
  
Davis shook his head. “Apart from the hysterical garbage she was spouting about monsters in the woods killing the instructor which nobody could untangle, we haven’t been able to make head nor tail of her story. We were hoping to get some sort of statement when she regains consciousness.”  
  
The quiet of the dim hospital corridor was momentarily disrupted by the clatter of an operating theatre trolley being pushed by an orderly and accompanied by a nurse with a clipboard. Gary assumed that they were fetching someone to theatre. He and Davis moved out of the way and the nurse smiled at them in thanks.  
  
“Is there anywhere we can talk quietly, preferably without being disturbed?” Gary queried.  
  
Davis nodded and gestured back along the corridor. “The chapel is just down there. It should be quiet enough.” The Major’s cautious and slightly reluctant attitude had got his curiosity aroused. Obviously there was more to this whole thing than the police were aware of.  
  
Once in the chapel Gary waited until the chaplain had left before turning to the policeman. “The thing is Inspector, Sergeant Freeman was only one of a training group who had gone into the forest. There are twelve more trainees and five Staff Instructors unaccounted for. Divisional HQ Training Wing can’t raise any one of them and they were starting to worry. When the message came through about Sergeant Freeman we had hoped…” His voice trailed off.  
  
Now it was Davis’ turn to sigh. “Nobody has reported any other people coming out of that part of the forest. We did assume that the lass wasn’t on her own, so the local force who know that part of the forest went out about two hours ago with a representative of the Forest of Dean and a member of the Forestry Commission to see if they could find anyone or anything. I’m waiting for them to report back to see if they have been able to locate anyone else.” There was an undertone of irritation in his voice at the military’s apparent unwillingness to keepthe local authoritiesinformed of the movement of their personnel.  
  
Gary opened his mouth to speak however the soft, but insistent, shrilling of the Inspector’s mobile phone forestalled him. He sat quietly while the policeman listened to the person on the other end and watched with a sinking heart as the man’s previously mildly worried expression turned grim. He didn’t need to be told that whatever the policeman was hearing, it wasn’t good news.  
  
Davis finally switched off his phone and stared at it for a moment as if wishing it could ring and tell him something different. Finally he looked up at Gary. “There has apparently been some kind of incident in one of the deeper reaches of the forest. My lads have found where your trainees were setting up camp but…” He stopped and swallowed convulsively.  
  
“But what?” Gary prompted gently.  
  
“There’s no easy way to say this.” Davis looked awful. “All the lads found were a pile of charred bones and some severed heads. You said there were seventeen soldiers out there? Well they found sixteen severed heads littered around the area, which would make the young lady’s hysterical outpourings possibly feasible.”  
  
Gary’s head was reeling in shock. One part of his mind had instantly been benumbed by the horrific news, but the other was frantically trying to recall which of the trainees had been from his own unit. “What are you trying to tell me?” He asked. His lips felt frozen. “That someone killed and dismembered seventeen soldiers of the British Army and then burnt their bodies?”  
  
Davis cleared his throat loudly. An elderly man in a dressing gown who had wandered in quietly while they were speaking turned in his pew near the altar and frowned in disapproval. Davis smiled an apology at him and continued, keeping his voice lowered respectfully. “The Forensics people and the Crime Scene Investigation team are on their way as we speak and your Divisional HQ has been notified. They are sending their own forensics people and some Brigadier whose name I can’t remember. We won’t know exactly what happened until forensics have been over the crime scene.” He cast a glance in the direction of the ward where Kim Freeman lay. “Or until the young lady in there enlightens us.”  
  
Something in his tone told Gary that the police considered her to be a suspect and he immediately felt drawn to defend her. “Are you implying that Sergeant Freeman is responsible for this atrocity? I mean we aren’t even sure that the bones are human are we?”  
  
“If they aren’t, then where are the bodies the heads should have been attached to?” Davis’ tone was even. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag, which he laid on his knee. Through the clear plastic Gary could see that it was some kind of ornate weapon, a dagger with what looked like a gold handle carved with symbols and a curved lethal looking blade, also with some symbols carved into it. “Sergeant Freeman was carrying this when she ran into the village.” He handed the plastic bag to Gary who stared at it dully.  
  
“It’s not military issue.” The statement sounded pathetic and not even remotely funny, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.  
  
Davis didn’t laugh; instead he raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t think for one minute that it was. We dusted it for prints and found nothing but the young lady’s prints and another set that the database hasn’t been able to identify. So far she hasn’t been able to give us a statement of where she got the weapon and where it fits into all of this.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure that Sergeant Freeman couldn’t, wouldn’t have been capable of fighting off seventeen large trained soldiers, decapitating them and then putting them on a bonfire.” Gary asserted stoutly. “There had to be someone else there. A number of someone else’s in fact.” He handed the bag back to Davis who put it back in his pocket.  
  
“As it happens I agree with you.” He said slowly. “I don’t think for one minute that the lass did it, but in the absence of any other explanation you must understand that we have to consider her a prime suspect. The ground around the site was apparently disrupted to a large degree. There were many footprints and the CSI people will have cordoned it off by now to make casts. However, if you want I can take you out there to see for yourself. I understand that they found a few dog tags. They’ll have to be dusted for prints of course, but they should serve as a form of identification. The sad and worrying fact is that all we have at present is a crime scene, some bones, sixteen heads, a dagger with Sergeant Freeman’s and anunknown person’s prints on it and a huge fucking mystery. Not to mention where did the seventeenth head go to.”  
  
Gary tapped his fingers on the back of the pew thoughtfully. Finally he turned to Davis. “Perhaps Sergeant Freeman might respond better to someone she knows? Like me?”  
  
Davis nodded. “It’s possible. Do you want to talk to her now? I can speak to the nurse and get her current condition assessed.”  
  
“Yes, please do so Inspector.” Gary stood up with a determined look on his even features.  
  
Davis left the chapel and was gone for a few minutes, a time that Gary used to try and collect his scattered thoughts. The mobile phone in his pocket began to play the theme from the Dambusters and the old man in the dressing gown turned around with a ferocious scowl.  
  
“Sorry.” Gary called over softly, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. He went outside the chapel to take the call from his Commanding Officer who was now in his car with his driver on his way to Lydney. Finally he shut the phone off with an inward groan. It was bad enough that this was a major incident that would devastate the families of the dead and the unit as a whole, all they bloody needed was for the Old Man to get his knickers in a twist and jump up and down.  
  
Davis tapped Gary on the shoulder making him jump. “She’s sleepy, but a lot more coherent. The nurse says we could try to talk to her now, but not to upset her unduly. I’ll have to stay in the room with you though.” He warned.  
  
“I have no objection to that Inspector.”  
  
They made their way to the small side ward where Kim Freeman lay, now awake, but with those hideous scenes from the forest swirling unchecked through her exhausted brain.  
Somewhere in West Beleriand, Year 553 First Age  
  
“Speak.” The golden-haired figure at the table looked up wearily as one of the scouts returned and stood hovering in the doorway of the tent.  
  
The young warrior’s face was streaked with dirt and his expression was grim. It occurred to Ingwion that the last time he had seen the young ellon was at one of the festivals on the slopes of Taniquetl. Only then he did not look lean, dirtyand exhausted, he had looked happy, leaping high and joyfullyin the dances with the beautiful young ellyth. The mane of golden hair that he had tossed in a carefree fashion on that day was now tied back in warrior braids, something the young Vanyarin males would not have usually considered doing in their peaceful daily lives.  
  
However this was not a time of peace. The Valar had decreed that Morgoth was to be captured and returned in chains for judgement. To that end Lord Eonwe, the Herald of Manwehad caused the trumpets to be sounded for the gathering of the Host of the Valar and many a young Vanyarin would not see their home again until they were released from the Halls of Waiting by Lord Namo, the Doomsman of the Valar.  
  
Ingwion could see the utter weariness in the young man’s face. He gestured to the chair beside his map-strewn table. “Sit and rest awhile. You are exhausted.” He poured some wine into a goblet and the young warrior stared fixedly at the deep purple liquid spilling into the vessel. He sat down in the chair and Ingwion handed the wine to him with a reassuring smile. “Drink, and regain your strength. Even the greatest and bravest warrior should not be ashamed to admit that he needs rest. What is your name child?”  
  
The young ellon pushed some loose strands of his hair behind his delicately pointed ears with a weary hand. Ingwion noted that his hair no longer shone like strands of living gold, but instead hung lank, greyish and damp with sweat around his shoulders.  
  
“Rion, my Lord Ingwion.” He answered respectfully and took a gulp of the powerful wine which immediately went straight to his head, especially given the fact that he had been travelling four days straight without stopping.  
  
Ingwion hid a smile when he saw the young ellon’s pale blue eyes glaze over slightly. He reached out and put a restraining hand on the youngster’s shoulder. “Not so much and not so fast little one. This is a powerful brew.” He cautioned gravely, but his eyes twinkled with merriment.  
  
“No my Lord. I mean yes, my Lord.” Rion flushed and bit his lip in irritation. Being almost two hundred years old, he considered himself to be an adult and was annoyed with himself for behaving like an elfling in the presence of Lord Ingwion.  
  
Ingwion sighed and poured himself some wine. He sat down and studied the young warrior. How long ago had it been since he was such a callow youth and prone to blushing? It seemed like longer than all of the Ages of Arda put together. “This is not a test Rion. It’s just a goblet of wine. Drink and release your cares, at least for the moment.” He sipped his own wine and ran his finger along the rim. “Tell me. What of my brother?”  
  
Ingwion happened to ask this most important question just as Rion was taking another sip. The wine went down the wrong way and he ended up bright red in the face with a coughing fit. Ingwion waited patiently until he had gathered himself together.  
  
“We searched along the coastline my Lord and then travelled along Lord Melannen’s path east as far as we dared. The forest there is thick and full of ancient trees. They spoke to us of a small party and an ambush by a party of Orcs, but we could find no sign of our kindred, other than a small stack of kindling set to one side under a tree. Of Lord Melannen and his guards there was no sign whatsoever. It is as if they disappeared off the face of Arda completely.” He glanced anxiously at Ingwion whose expression was now grim. “We did not dare delay our return any longer my Lord, the Host moves so swiftly, we were afraid that we would be cut off. However we did meet up with one Gildor Inglorion of the House of Finarfin, or so he maintained.”  
  
“Gildor?” Ingwion jumped up with a look of pleasure on his face. “I am acquainted with him from the time before the kin slaying. I had no idea he still lived, but am glad for it.”  
  
Rion gave a hesitant smile. “Then the grace of Elbereth must have been shining on our meeting for he asked for news of you. When we told him that you were here among the Host of the Valar he sent his greetings to you. We asked if he had seen your brother, but he said he had not and that he was heading to join up with the forces of Ereinion Gil-galad and Lord Cirdan, but that if he came across himhe would point him in the right direction and send him to you!”  
  
Ingwion’s silvery laughter floated out of the tent at this and those nearby smiled to hear it. Since Lord Melannen’s disappearance whilst on a patrol, Ingwion’s usually ready laughter had been absent.  
  
“That rascal.” He chuckled. “I wager he would do that too and paddle Melannen’s backside into the bargain. Did he say aught else?”  
  
Rion shook his head and put his now empty goblet on the table. “Only that he would keep both eyes and ears open for sign of Lord Melannen.” He glanced at his Lord apologetically. “I am sorry my Lord, we did all that you asked of us.”  
  
Ingwion’s fair face grew sad and grim again. “I know little one and I thank you for it. My brother is either alive and trying to find his way back or he is already in the Halls of Waiting. Either way, I will see him again, Namo willing. We will have to trust to luck and our kindred here in Middle-earth. I cannot afford to send anyone else in search now. Lord Eonwe orders us to move camp tomorrow.” He glanced over at the exhausted and now rather sleepy Rion. “Go now. Eat and get some rest. We have an early start on the morrow.”  
  
Rion stood up and bowed low. “Goodnight my Lord.”  
  
Ingwion smiled absently at him, his mind already moving to the maps of the area and thinking about the strategies outlined in Lord Eonwe’s meeting between his senior commanders.


	3. Reality Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.

“Dreaming permits each  
and every one of us  
to be quietly and safely  
insane every night  
of our lives”  
\- William Dement  
  
Her eyes streamed with tears and her breathing was ragged and shallow, as if she couldn’t gather in enough air to make her lungs function fast enough. Whip-thin branches snagged at her hair and snapped viciously against her face leaving a myriad of thin cuts across her face and hands as she tried to ward them off and protect her eyes. Tiny beads of blood welled up from them and the red blended with the dark green and black camouflage cream she had applied only hours earlier.  
  
It almost seemed as if the very forest itself was trying to hinder her escape. It wilfully placed bushes and thorn thickets in her path and threatened to send her flying with some bulbous tree root that really had no business being above ground at all.  
  
Her flight was haphazard and it felt like her combat boots had turned to solid iron; they clumped across the ground tripping over things and weighing her down when what she really needed was speed.  
  
And all the time she could hear the relentless thundering of her pursuer’s feet accompanied by the smashing of branches and vegetation seemingly just behind her. Once or twice she thought she could even feel the hot fetid breath, reeking of a recent blood fest on the back of her neck. The eyes of her instructor, milky in death, found her and pierced her soul with reproach. The bloodied mouth, that by rights should speak no more, opened and spoke in a dry whisper like the rustling of dead leaves.  
  
Avenge me. Avenge us!  
  
“No, no, no, no”. She heard a high-pitched voice that she vaguely recognised as hers. “Don’t think about that; don’tthinkabouthim, don’tthinkabouttheothers. Just don’t think at all!”  
  
There was a light ahead, something that glowed ethereally in between the thick tree trunks. Was it her imagination or was the forest growing more trees by the second? Soon she wouldn’t fit between them at all. She obviously needed to be much thinner. Hysterical giggles bubbled up inside her until she thought her chest would burst unless she let them out.  
  
Head for the light. The thought popped entirely unbidden into her mind. Isn’t that what those medium types always said? She spotted a gap in the trees, veered off her flight path and stumbled into a small clearing. A small sob escaped her as she recognised the place. She had been running around in circles.  
  
“Pen tithen, dartho”  
  
The voice was so soft she wasn’t actually sure she had heard it and at first it seemed that there was nobody there who could have spoken.  
  
The clearing was bathed in a soft luminous glow. It wasn’t a bright and painful light yet she still found that her eyes were stinging and having trouble focussing. Was that a figure in the middle of the clearing; someone with a nimbus of light surrounding them? She wiped her sore eyes on the sleeve of her combat jacket and blinked furiously.  
  
Slowly a more solid form began to coalesce through the glow. The sounds of the crashing and guttural grunting drew closer and she felt a spasm of panic in her gut. She had to go, dallying here was not a good idea no matter how pretty the light show was. Beyond the trees lay safety and sanity, a respite from the madness surrounding her and that threatened to swallow her whole.  
  
She blinked as the tall, lithe figure of a man stepped out in front of her. Her eyes widened as she saw that he had the face of an angel. Bright eyes, lit from behind with captured starlight regarded her with both sorrow and consolation in their depths. His face was slender and so fair that she would have been hard put to describe it adequately in mere language and was framed with a heavy mass of gold hair that hung nearly to his waist. Her mouth gaped in awe at his beauty and by comparison she felt small, ugly, dark and primitive.  
  
He placed one hand over his heart and bowed to her in matchless courtesy and she was about to ask him who he was when the crashing noises solidified into her pursuer and her heart froze solid in her chest. However instead of charging at her swinging its sword in an arc that would instantly kill her, it turned to face the golden man, dark eyes glittering with bloodlust and triumph. For a moment the comparison between perfection and imperfection was stunning in its clarity.  
  
The creature reached out one large bloodstained paw and grasped the golden man by his shoulder. At the same time it let out a bloodcurdling, ululating cry that froze the marrow in her bones. Seconds later an answering cry came from the surrounding woodland.  
  
She tried to scream at the golden man to fight, defend himself, but although her mouth opened nothing whatsoever came out and when she tried to move she found she was rooted to the spot. A sob escaped her as the golden man allowed himself to be bound and drawn away by a noose around his neck. He looked no more at her, but turned and was led away. However, as he followed his captor, she quite clearly saw something fall from him, as though it had been loosely concealed about his person and had just been waiting for the right time to make its escape.  
  
It fell with a soft thud at her feet and when she looked down she saw a shining dagger with a golden hilt as bright as the gold of its’ owner’s hair and a shining curved blade that reflected the starlight of his bright eyes lying on the ground.  
  
She bent down and picked it up. Even to her untutored hand the balance felt just right and despite the gold of the hilt it was virtually weightless. It was a thing of beauty which possessed a warmth that belied the cold metals it was manufactured from and thrummed with a small power entirely of its own. She turned it over in her hand and examined it in fascination but her scrutiny was disturbed by the sensation of someone else there and her heart leapt with fear as she recalled her dire predicament. She looked up expecting to see one of the creatures turning back to kill her, but instead the bloodied form of the instructor, back on his feet and head in its proper place stood in front of her.  
  
She started back in horror as the bloodied mouth opened again.  
  
Avenge me. Avenge us!  
  
Other forms materialised out of the thick trees, all covered in blood and hands outstretched in entreaty. Their mouths echoed the first cry for revenge and their icy cold, clammy hands pulled at her clothing and touched her face. Suffused with horror and disgust she sank to the ground, holding her arms protectively over her head. A keening wail issued from her throat.  
  
oOo  
  
Gary Matthews had been dozing in a chair by Kim’s bedside since trying to talk to her a few hours earlier. The discussion had been fruitless because the sedative the doctor had given her made her very muddled and prone to dropping off to sleep in the middle of a sentence. He had eventually given up with a sigh and the Inspector had left to visit the crime scene with a strict admonition to Gary that he wasn’t to talk to Kim without the constable outside the door or himself being present.  
  
Consequently he was feeling a little muddled himself when the sound from the bed resolved itself into a wail worthy of an air raid siren. He jumped up and immediately tried to calm her down. “Sgt Freeman. Kim, it’s okay, you’re safe. Whatever it is, you’re just dreaming.”  
  
By this time the young constable had come into the room. “Is she all right sir?” He looked as bleary-eyed as Gary felt.  
  
Kim was now sitting up in the hospital bed heaving huge gulps of air in between ragged gasps and sobs. A sheen of sweat clung to her pale skin. “Th..the knife, the dagger, where is it?” She groped blindly on the bedside table, nearly knocking over a glass of water, which Gary rescued in the nick of time before it crashed to the floor.  
  
He gently took both of her hands. “The police have it Sgt Freeman. It’s evidence.”  
  
She looked blankly at him. “Evidence? Evidence for what?” In a flash remembrance and the horrifying reality of it flooded her consciousness. “Oh god.” She let out a whimper and lay back with her eyes closed. The tears squeezed out from under her eyelids.  
  
Gary indicated that the constable should sit in the other chair. He then handed Kim a wad of tissue which she clutched in her hand. She turned her face to the pillow and sobbed as if her heart was broken in two.  
  
“Should I get the nurse?” The constable whispered.  
  
Gary shook his head. “I don’t think there’s anything she can do except give her another sedative. Personally I think this is better out than in. We need her compos mentis and calm so we can talk to her.” He grinned at the young man. “I didn’t get your name.”  
  
The constable grinned back. “I don’t think anyone thought to make a formal introduction.” He reached over the bed and held out his hand. “Police Constable Jim Moore.”  
  
Gary took the proffered hand. “Major Gary Matthews. I’m the Adjutant for Sgt Freeman’s unit for my sins, which are obviously many!”  
  
Kim’s sobs had started to die down to a series of sniffs and hiccups. She blew her nose and stared at the two men with tear-washed eyes. “None of it is a dream is it?” Her voice was forlorn. “They’re all dead, aren’t they?”  
  
Gary glanced over at Jim who now had his notebook and a pencil out. “Yes.” He said quietly. “We believe they are. We’re just waiting for the forensics to finish up, then we’ll know a bit more, but we need to hear your side of the story as well. Do you feel up to talking about it?”  
  
Kim sniffled again and stared across at the window. Shafts of pale sunlight were trying to steal through chinks in the curtains. “What time is it?” She asked.  
  
Jim answered her. “It’s eight in the morning.”  
  
“How long have I been here?”  
  
“Since about nine yesterday evening.” Jim said quietly. “You were brought in by the local Whitecroft copper after you stumbled into somebody’s garden and tried to beat their door down.” He gave a faint smile. “At the same time as waving around a lethal looking dagger. I think the elderly couple thought their last hour had come.”  
  
He managed to wring a tiny smile out of Kim and Gary sent him a grateful look.  
  
“How…how many did they find?” She asked quietly.  
  
“I’m afraid they didn’t find any of them alive.” Gary replied gently.  
  
“What about the blond man? Was he among the…dead?” She spoke the last word with a grimace as if reluctant to admit that any of her colleagues had died.  
  
Gary’s raised an eyebrow. “Blond man?”  
  
“Yes, a really gorgeous looking bloke with long blond hair. He was the one who dropped the dagger.” A small furrow appeared between her brows. “No.” She said slowly. “That can’t be right, because I dug the dagger out of the ground. Unless he came later, after WO2 Irwin was…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes filled with tears again.  
  
“WO2 Irwin was?” Gary prompted carefully. “What happened to him Kim, do you know?”  
  
Kim licked her lips and stared up at the two men under her lashes then she looked down and picked at a loose thread on the coverlet. “That thing killed him. It chased him through the woods and then it killed him.”  
  
Thing? Gary looked at Jim who shrugged. “What do you mean by thing? It’s very important that you give a description so that the police know who they are looking for.”  
  
Kim’s reaction to this was extraordinary to say the least. She burst into helpless giggles. “Description? I don’t think I’ll have a problem there.” She managed to blurt out between snorts of laughter. “It was a thing, sort of human, but not human, like primitive. It was wearing armour and heavy metal boots and it came out of the bushes and chopped WO2 Irwin’s head right off with a huge sword in front of me, then it picked up the body and marched off with it.”  
  
“He didn’t see you?”  
  
She shook her head. “No, because Mr Irwin threw me into a thick bush before the thing caught up with him and told me to stay down. He said it was an order. So I stayed down, but then I looked. There was lots of blood.” She stopped laughing and her bottom lip began to wobble.  
  
Jim was writing furiously and Gary put a gentle hand on her arm. “Take it easy Kim, you’ve been through a lot. Give yourself some breathing space.”  
  
“I can bring in an Identikit officer and an artist.” Jim said. “Perhaps they can cobble together a reasonable likeness.”  
  
Gary nodded. “Do it now if you want, I promise I won’t ask Sgt Freeman any more questions till you get back. And see if there was another body amongst the soldiers. A tall man with long fair hair.”  
  
Jim nodded and left the room.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
Gary turned to her with a question in his eyes.  
  
“I don’t think the blond man will be with the dead. I think he’s still alive and we have to go and rescue him.”  
  
“How do you know?” Gary asked curiously.  
  
“Because…” She bit her lip and looked towards the window again. “Because I can feel he’s still alive. I didn’t seemhim in the clearing with that thing and Mr Irwin, but he was there, either before I got there or after. They captured him, but I don’t think they want to kill him. They need him alive.”  
  
It was beginning to sound like she was rambling again, so Gary decided a little officer-style firmness wouldn’t go amiss. “I think you should get some more rest Sgt Freeman. We can talk some more later.”  
  
She recognised an order when she heard one, but the truth was that her head was swimming and she knew she should close her eyes. It was just that every time she did she saw the reproachful faces of the dead demanding vengeance. She felt guilty that she was still alive and that she owed them.  
  
“We need to rescue him.” She said sleepily.  
  
“We will.” Gary soothed her. He wasn’t sure what else to say.  
  
“We need to give him his dagger back.”  
  
“We’ll do that too.”  
  
Her breathing grew soft and regular, so he decided to take the opportunity of stretching his legs out in the corridor. Perhaps some kind nurse would offer to make him a cup of tea. He managed to get as far as the door when her tired voice stopped him.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
Gary sighed. “What now Sgt Freeman?”  
  
“The blond man. I think he might be an Elf sir.”  
  
Gary was nonplussed. “An Elf? You mean like leprechauns and faeries and stuff? For god’s sake Sergeant what did they give you last night?”  
  
A gentle snore was all he got by way of an answer.


	4. Lead me, follow me, or get the hell out of my way  Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.

“For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.” – James Baldwin  
  
Kim stood by the bed and folded her towel carefully, edge to edge, until it formed a perfect rectangle with no overlapping or untidy sides. It wasn’t that she was some kind of obsessive-compulsive; it was more that when she occupied herself in mindless tasks it stopped her from thinking about the bad stuff. This bad stuff lay on the outer edge of the sea of insanity and she was determined not to go there.  
  
“Are you decent? Can I come in?” The welcome voice of Chief Knowles interrupted her folding. She turned and joyfully flung herself into his arms.  
  
The Chief was understandably taken aback to find that one of the senior and most level-headed members of his usually orderly Orderly Room staff had suddenly turned into a limpet and was clinging tightly to him.  
  
“Ah…Kim? Oxygen is becoming a huge issue here.” He gently disengaged her arms from his shoulders, but did not release her hands. Instead he gently rubbed them and turned them over to examine the vicious scratch marks that had scored the soft skin. He made a soft sound of distress under his breath when he finally lifted her chin and saw the bruises and deep scratches down her cheeks as well. “Damn it Sergeant what the hell have you been doing to yourself?” He asked softly. “All I did was send you on a Fieldcraft Training exercise.”  
  
She hung her head. “Sorry Chief.” The tears that were constantly on the verge of falling spilled unchecked down her cheeks and the overwhelming grief that had dogged her since that awful night finally overflowed.  
  
He gently pulled her back into his arms and rocked her, as he would have one of his own daughters, stroking her hair and making soft reassuring noises all the while.  
  
The figure of Gary Matthews appeared momentarily in the doorway and Knowles smiled at him over Kim’s bent head.  
  
“I’ll come back later.” Gary mouthed and Knowles nodded.  
  
After a few moments Kim lifted her head and Knowles handed her his clean handkerchief. She blew on it loudly and then tried to give it back to him. He chuckled and pushed her hand away. “No. It’s all right, really. You keep it for now; give it back to me later, when it’s been laundered. Well and truly!”  
  
Kim gave a watery chuckle. “Oops. Sorry Chief, I wasn’t thinking.” She stuffed the offending damp article into the pocket of her combat trousers. She looked mournfully at Knowles. “I think they think that I murdered everyone.” She said despondently. “There’s even a copper outside the door in case I run amok and start on a bloodletting spree.”  
  
He glanced at the door in confusion. “Copper? Well there’s nobody there at the moment, so they obviously don’t think you’re too much of a threat.” He went to the door and looked both ways down the corridor, but all he could see was the Adjutant coming back in company with another man. He came in and shook his head. “Nope. No men in blue anywhere to be seen.”  
  
“Does that mean I’m free to go then?”  
  
“Not quite.” Inspector Alun Davis came into the room with the Adjutant. “The hospital still has to release you. However I am happy to say that forensics have ruled you out as the murderer and also that dagger as any kind of murder weapon. Not that I ever thought you were. However we would still like you to assist us in some further enquiries.”  
  
The relief on her face rapidly turned to consternation. “What sort of enquiries?”  
  
“Well, if you’re feeling up to it, we would like you to visit the crime scene area.” He said matter-of-factly.  
  
She paled. “But why? I thought you said I had been ruled out.”  
  
“Yes, you have, but there is still the matter of the ah…missing head.”  
  
“Mr Irwin’s head.” She said quietly.  
  
Knowles listened to the conversation and watched Kim’s reaction with narrowed eyes. She had taken the handkerchief out of her pocket and was crushing it convulsively and nervously in her hands. The idea of going back into those woods terrified her that much was plain to see.  
  
“Yes.” The Inspector smiled at her. “We really need to try to locate it, along with your weapon if possible. Can’t have lethal implements lying around in the woods for some hiker or kids to find, can we? Or bits of body parts. Do you think you could retrace your steps back to where Mr Irwin died?”  
  
She bit her lip. “I...I think so.” She looked up at Gary as if to say ‘Do I have to do this?’ and he nodded reassuringly at her.  
  
“Think of it as a duty to Mr Irwin and his family Sergeant.” Gary said gently. “And losing your weapon is a chargeable offence in the British Army. You should know that more than anyone.”  
  
She flushed. “I didn’t do it deliberately Sir.”  
  
“I know that. If I thought otherwise you’d have been brought up on a charge by now. There were extenuating circumstances. However now we need to retrieve it.”  
  
“Did you retrieve everyone else’s weapon?” She asked.  
  
Gary and the Inspector exchanged a speaking glance and the sudden cold certainty hit the Chief that they hadn’t managed to retrieve the weapons. He looked at Kim to see if she had noticed the slight silence but she was staring down at the bed, so he decided to remain quiet and not ask the sixty-four million dollar question that was rattling around in his head.  
  
“It’s in hand Sergeant.” Gary replied rather diffidently. He looked at his watch. “We can go out to the scene as soon as the hospital discharge you and after we’ve had some lunch. Is that okay Inspector?”  
  
Davis nodded. “Sounds fine to me except that I’m needed back at the station. I’ll send PC Moore back to go with you. He’s a local lad, knows the area and woods like the back of his hand.”  
  
“Good, then let’s get you discharged Sergeant. I’ll go and see if they’ve sorted out the paperwork.” Gary left the ward and was halfway down the corridor to the nurse’s station when Chief Knowles caught up with him.  
  
“Sir, is it all right if I come with you this afternoon?”  
  
Gary stopped and stared at him. “I don’t see why not Chief, you are her boss after all. In fact I think it would be a good thing if you did. She obviously trusts you and feels safe with you. Yes, do come.” He said the last almost as though he was inviting the Chief to a tea party at Buck House with the Queen rather than on a gruesome expedition to find someone’s severed head.  
  
Knowles chuckled. “Thank you sir. I appreciate the confidence in me.” He said dryly.  
  
oOo  
  
They travelled to the forest in the Chief’s huge Mitsubishi Shogun with PC Moore trundling behind in his police car. They had travelled from Lydney and on through the village of Whitecroft where Kim had stumbled into after her flight from the forest.  
  
She looked out of the window curiously to see if it seemed familiar, but she recognised nothing at all. Everything that had happened after she took to her heels and scrambled through the woods was a bit of a blur. She vaguely recalled dizzying bright lights and a man asking her questions, but apart from that there was nothing.  
  
What was interesting for Gary and the Chief at least was the distance Kim must have covered that fateful evening. The minor road they took from Whitecroft into the forest proper ran for quite a few miles and passed through at least two other villages.  
  
They pulled into the last village, which was called Parkend, and parked the vehicles up. Jim Moore got out of his police car and came over to the Shogun. “This is where we need to leave the cars. We could go a little further up the road, but the track we need to take doesn’t have anywhere we could leave them. It’s not far, perhaps a mile, mile and a half.” He looked at Kim, obviously wondering if she was up to it physically.  
  
Gary answered for her. “Sgt Freeman is a trained soldier Jim, she’s used to hiking and getting on with it. That’s what soldiers are supposed to do.” His tone was mild, but underlain with a gentle admonition.  
  
“Of course.” Jim acknowledged and smiled at the pale young woman. To him she looked as fragile as a china doll, but he supposed that the military have to keep up appearances of being tough. “Shall we then?” He had already donned a pair of thick socks and heavy duty Wellington boots. He slipped into the familiar fluorescent yellow jacket with POLICE written on the back, checked his torch and radio and headed off down the road followed by three soldiers dressed in combat clothing.  
  
Lace curtains twitched at cottage windows as the motley group walked past. The small village had already had a taste of notoriety with the comings and goings of the crime scene and forensics teams. There had even been TV cameras and the man from the BBC nine o’clock news in the village, but the authorities had so far been very tight-lipped about the goings on in the wood. This didn’t stop the denizens of Parkend being curious though. For them, the only thing that made this little group slightly more acceptable was that they had a local Coleford boy with them, even if he was a copper.  
  
Just as Jim Moore had said, they hadn’t got more than about a mile along the small road when they stopped and he indicated a stile and a path that led into a thick clump of dark conifers.  
  
“This is it.” He said pointing at the path. “We head along here for another three miles and we should reach the crime scene. It’s not too far from my village, which is Coleford. Beyond there is the A4136 which splits the Forest of Dean and runs all the way from Huntley to Monmouth which is the nearest large city and where the River Monnow joins up with the River Wye.”  
  
Gary turned to Kim. “You ran a hell of a long way Sergeant.”  
  
She gave him a wan, unenthusiastic smile. No matter how she tried she couldn’t recall any details of her terror-filled flight, which was, perhaps, just as well under the circumstances. Now, standing at the edge of the dark clump of trees, she found that the idea of entering there again made her feel sick to her stomach.  
  
Jim smiled. “Yes she did and the sad thing is that if she had run in the opposite direction she would have hit Coleford a lot faster than she did Whitecroft.”  
  
“And presumably if she had run forwards instead of back, she would have run straight into the arms of the killer or killers.” The Chief put in quietly.  
  
“Aye, there is that.” Jim said sombrely. “Her instincts were probably right in the first place.” He looked around at the three soldiers. “Everybody okay to go in?”  
  
Gary glanced at Kim’s deathly pale face and beckoned to the Chief. “Chief, if we let Jim go first because he knows the area then either you or I should go last. Keep Sgt Freeman in the middle.”  
  
The Chief nodded. “I’ll be ‘Tail-end Charlie’ sir. You and Kim can be ‘piggy-in-the-middle’”  
  
Gary chuckled. “Dear heaven Chief, that takes me back a bit. I haven’t played ‘piggy-in-the-middle’ for years, not since I was about seven.”  
  
“Ah.” The Chief nodded sagely. “My speciality was ‘knockie-nine-doors’. Never did like ball games. The old geezer at Number Fifty-One used to regularly chase me with his garden shears at the ready. Of course that was why we did it, for the excitement. It probably led to me joining up.”  
  
Gary gave a snort of laughter and followed Jim over the stile.  
  
“After you.” Chief bowed to Kim with exaggerated courtesy and ushered her over.  
  
She gave him a ghost of a smile. “You trying to protect me Chief?”  
  
He stared at her for a moment and then a mocking grin stretched his mouth. “Protect you? Not on your life Sergeant. I’m hoping that when they fire from the front you and the other two will be there to take the hits. It’ll give me the chance to turn tail and run. I’m not daft.” He tapped the side of his nose knowingly and was gratified when Kim gave the first giggle he had heard out of her all day.  
  
oOo  
  
It didn’t matter that the sun was shining above the canopy of foliage, none of it managed to penetrate down to the forest floor, so it was a damp place smelling of moist dark earth, the musky scent of the wildflowers that could grow and the smell of pine sap.  
  
Ferns and bracken were abundant on the ground, as were walls of thorn thickets similar to the one Kim had lain in on her previous visit. The forest was also eerily silent except for the occasional furtive rustle in the undergrowth. No birds sang and any sounds from the modern world outside were non-existent. Even a light aircraft flying high above them failed to make its presence felt.  
  
The deathly silence and the damp vegetation had different effects on all of them. Chief was immediately taken back to the jungles of Papua New Guinea. Although the foliage was by no means exotic jungle fare, the closeness and stillness aroused his alert system. There was something here. What kind of something he wasn’t sure, but it was here and it was watching them.  
  
Gary recollected summer holidays spent in the New Forest in Hampshire with his family. He and his brother thought that they had got lost one hot summer’s day and were close to the verge of panic as they stumbled frantically through the trees and hit the campsite, only to find that they had been running in circles. However the sombre stillness of this ancient conifer wood with its occasional spreading oak made him recall how threatened he had felt when he didn’t recognise anything familiar. He felt an odd prickle on the back of his neck and got the fleeting impression of someone looking at him, but when he glanced at the others Kim had her head bent and the Chief was looking closely at the trees on his left. He dismissed it as fanciful and trudged on.  
  
Jim Moore had grown up and played, both as a child and a young teenager in these woods. Nearly every tree was an old friend and although he acknowledged that the place was quieter than it usually was and there was an absence of animals, like the fallow deer that often wandered through looking for forage, it still seemed like a friendly place to him.  
  
Kim was almost stiff with fear. She tried to tell herself that they would be fine, but the same oppressive stillness that had lain over the forest that late afternoon clogged the very air. The atmosphere around her felt electric and her heart was beating far too fast. The whole stupid place had eyes. Eyes that glittered like obsidian in nasty brutal faces, but that could see for long distances. She shuddered and crossed her arms protectively around her chest.  
  
Jim stopped and held his hand up. So did Gary, however Kim who was walking with her head down smacked into his back and bumped her nose. “Ow! Oops, sorry Sir.” She smiled apologetically at Gary who had turned around. “Why have we stopped?”  
  
Gary pointed at the fox that was currently crossing the path. The fox had also stopped and stared suspiciously at this human intrusion into his domain, but since they all remained quite still he obviously assumed that they meant him no harm. He trotted on into the bracken and ferns on the other side of the path and disappeared from view.  
  
“That’s the first sign of life we’ve seen in here since we entered.” Jim said softly. “It’s very strange, usually there’s a lot of wild life activity.”  
  
“Perhaps something spooked them.” Chief commented.  
  
“Or someone.” Kim shivered again.  
  
“Or perhaps it’s just the fact that we’re all aware that something very nasty happened here in the very recent past?” Gary said in practical tones. “It’s called hyper-vigilence, you were in Papua weren’t you Chief? You should remember how twitchy the blokes on patrol got after a while.”  
  
“I do, sir. I remember it well, and at the risk of making everyone uneasy, I’ve had the same feeling in here that I used to get there. As if someone is watching me.”  
  
“Well whatever it is, the crime scene is just past that group of young oaks ahead.” Jim pointed in front of them.  
  
Gary turned to Kim. “Recognise anything yet Sergeant?”  
  
She looked around at her surroundings and frowned in concentration. Finally she shook her head. “I’m not sure sir. I don’t think I was this close to where they were setting the camp up. The noises sounded to me like they were coming from my left, but Mr Irwin.” She hesitated over his name a little. “Well he and that thing came from almost directly in front of me, but then I had stopped to...” She stopped with a flustered look on her face.  
  
“Why did you stop?” Gary persisted gently.  
  
“I…oh...bloody Nora, I stopped to pee, okay? I needed to pee. I found a convenient bush; so I may not have been facing the same way I was before and Mr Irwin and that thing could well have come from my left. From the direction of the campsite.”  
  
“We all need to pee at some stage Sergeant.” Gary said with a smile. “Even me.”  
  
Chief let out a bark of laughter. “And here was me thinking that officers didn’t do mundane things like that.” Gary raised his eyebrow and the Chief chuckled. “Sorry sir, I take it back. Officers are human beings after all. Who knew?”  
  
Gary grinned at him. “I forgive you Chief. I think officers stop seeing to the call of nature when they get to Major General or Field Marshal. I still have quite a way to go before I get that privilege!” He turned to Kim again. “And the dagger, where was that in relation to your bush?”  
  
She blushed furiously. “It wasn’t exactly my bush sir. It was near the bush, half buried in the soil. I was digging it out when I noticed the sounds had stopped, then they came, crashing through the woods. Mr Irwin looked half crazy or terrified and he was covered in blood. When he saw me he grabbed me by the arm and threw me into a row of thick bushes. He told me to stay down and then that awful sound came.” In her mind’s eye she saw the instructor falter again and then drop to his knees in front of her. With difficulty she jerked herself back to the present. “Then he died and that thing came out of the trees and chopped his head off. It picked his body up and it threw the head into the bushes where I was lying. I saw his eyes.” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper. “Oh god I saw his eyes.”  
  
Chief put his arm around her and she clung to him like a child after a nightmare. “I think that’s enough for the moment sir.” He said calmly. He met Gary’s gaze with a slight challenge in his own.  
  
“I agree.” Gary said quietly. “Take a few moments Sergeant and then we must crack on. I really don’t want to be wandering around here in the dark.”  
  
She straightened up. “I’m all right sir, really I am. It’s just that I keep seeing his eyes.”  
  
“I know you do, but the best thing to do is to talk about it. Try not to push it down too deep.” He looked at Jim who was standing quietly to one side. “You said the campsite was straight on?”  
  
“Yes. Straight ahead past those trees.” He pointed again.  
  
“Okay troops, let move out.” Gary started to walk towards the trees, followed by the others. They hadn’t got more than a few yards when Kim let out a cry.  
  
“There!” She pointed at one large girthed oak. “I sat there and sorted my blisters out.” She ran over to the tree and picked up something small and white. “The wrappings from the plasters. Here they are. I got up and went in the direction of the noises.” She said triumphantly.  
  
They all stood and looked at the tree, then as one they glanced at the clump of trees. The yellow crime scene tape could be clearly seen now. Kim saw the puzzled looks of her companions as they glanced from the tree to the campsite.  
  
“What’s wrong?” She faltered.  
  
“It’s nothing love.” Chief soothed. “You were just closer to the camp than you realised.”  
  
Jim was pale. “Damn, she had a narrow escape. She must have misjudged the direction the sounds were coming from. In actuality the Sergeant walked away from the campsite, not towards it. Blimey. Come to think on it, there is a clearing about a quarter of a mile away, which is used by hikers to pitch camp. They’re not supposed to start fires, but they do anyway.”  
  
“Well let’s head over there.” Gary said quietly.  
  
As they walked Kim began to get her bearings. Halfway along the path she stopped and bent down. When she stood up she had a Mars Bar wrapper in her hand. “That was mine.”  
  
Three pairs of eyebrows raised. “Whatever happened to the Country Code Sergeant?” Gary asked.  
  
“I was hungry!” She protested and then blushed again. “I should have put the wrapper in my pocket, but if I had then we wouldn’t have known we were on the right path would we?” She gazed at them triumphantly.  
  
“I suppose I can think of worse things to follow than a paper trail of chocolate bar wrappers.” Chief said dryly.  
  
“There was only one Mars Bar.” Kim replied loftily.  
  
Jim had scouted on ahead. “I’ve found something.” He called.  
  
They saw him rummage in his pockets and pull out some plastic gloves and a large green coloured baggie. Kim looked up at Gary who smiled reassuringly at her.  
  
“What is it Jim?”  
  
“I would suggest that you don’t let the young lady come any closer.” Warned Jim. Kim saw him put something carefully in the large bag and firmly zip it up. None of them needed to be told that one of their objectives at least had been achieved.  
  
oOo


	5. Just walk beside me and be my friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.

“There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.”  
\- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891  
  
  
“What do you think it is?”  
  
“Truthfully, I have no idea at all.”  
  
“Maybe we should pick it up.”  
  
“You pick it up then. For all we know it is some fiendish device of the enemy.”  
  
“I think that we should take it to Lord Gil-galad and Lord Cirdan.”  
  
Three elves dressed in bright mail and long cloaks stood staring down at the object lying innocently in the soft bracken and long grass.  
  
“Oh for the Valar’s sake.” An elf with the typical black hair and grey eyes of the Noldor swung his cloak off his shoulders and over the offending object.  
  
“Be careful Master Erestor. We don’t know what it is or where it came from. It could be something that the enemy has bewitched and left for us to take.” Another elf with long guinea gold hair cautioned.  
  
Erestor hunkered down and passed his hand lightly over the now covered object. “I sense nothing evil here Lord Glorfindel. It has no awareness of any kind.”  
  
“Nevertheless. Please be careful. I don’t want to have to explain to the King that I lost one of his senior advisors because he got transported to Thangorodrim by means of some enchantment.”  
  
“Enchantment?” Erestor rolled his eyes in exasperation, grasped the article using the cloak as a barrier just in case and picked it up. He turned the bundle over and examined the subject of the conversation which now nestled, with seeming innocence, in amongst the rich folds of black material Whatever it was, it was quite heavy and made of some kind of dark grey metal along with another lighter feeling, green coloured material that he did not recognise. He frowned deeply and fingered the metal. “I think, but am not sure, that it might be a weapon of some kind.”  
  
Gildor Inglorion bent over to see. He reached out and touched it with a tentative finger. “I think you might be right. See how this is positioned for a hand to fit around?” He slid his hand around the green grip and his index finger automatically moved to the trigger-like mechanism.  
  
A loud, sharp intake of breath could be heard from the other two Elves followed by a ghastly silence as he did so.  
  
Erestor went paler than usual if that was possible. “Gildor, I really don’t think you should…”  
  
A sharp business-like click snapped through the still air and all three elves flinched.  
  
“Too late.” He sighed as Gildor guiltily drew his hand away.  
  
“That green material feels very strange. It is warm to the touch, not like the other parts, which are cold.” Gildor said. He examined his finger closely just to make sure that it wasn’t disappearing or growing smaller or something equally dreadful.  
  
Glorfindel held out his hand for the item and Erestor surrendered it with some relief. He turned it over in both hands and weighed it speculatively. “Quite heavy and looks as if it could be broken into many parts, possibly for cleaning. It has some kind of writing on the end of it, but it is in no language that I recognise. Not even as the tongue of the enemy.” His golden brows knitted together in a frown. “I would say that this is definitely a weapon of some kind, but I have never seen its like before. It has no blade but there is an opening here where perhaps a blade of some kind would fit.” He slid a slender finger in the magazine housing of the SA80A2 Assault Rifle, although of course he did not know that this was what the object was.  
  
Kim Freeman could have identified it as hers immediately from the red number painted on the butt of the weapon.  
  
“The long cylinder is hollow.” Gildor pointed out. “It could be a means of propelling arrows, but they would have to be very small, thin arrows. Perhaps the opening is not for a blade, but to push the arrows through.”  
  
“There does not seem to be any kind of means of propelling an arrow.” Erestor objected.  
  
“Whatever it’s purpose, it is not an Elven weapon, nor do I believe that any of the Edain would be able to manufacture such a thing, it is too intricate. It has to be a weapon of Morgoth, made in his deep foundries perhaps.” Glorfindel wrapped the cloak securely around the gun and tied the bundle with a piece of thin silver rope. “We will take this to Lord Gil-galad and let him decide what to do with it. Perhaps Lord Celebrimbor will be able to strip it down and discover its true purpose.” He glanced around the rapidly darkening forest. “I think it would be best not to tarry here. This place has a fell air to it. Blood has been spilled here.” He pointed to some barely visible dark brown stains on the grass.”  
  
Gildor inspected the stains. “Aye, it is blood. I hope it isn’t Ingwion’s brother.” He stared into the gloom of the trees and shivered slightly. “This forest has eyes and not friendly ones at that. Let us away back to the camp.”  
  
They mounted their horses and rode back along the path to where the encampment of Ereinion Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor in exile was situated at the edge of the forest. They rode cautiously despite an overwhelming and unnerving desire to break into a gallop. The oppressive atmosphere of the forest and the idea that they were being watched meant that it was an uneasy group that finally urged their steeds to go faster once they had broken through the trees.  
  
oOo  
  
WO2 Chief Knowles stared around the clearing and then back at the charred remains of a fire in the centre. He scratched his head. “If Bob Irwin was killed here.” He pointed to the dark stains still crusting the bracken. “And his head was chucked over there.” He pointed to the thorn thicket that loomed over on the right. “Then how did his head get that far back along the path?”  
  
Jim Moore stood up from where he and Gary Matthews had been examining the spot where Kim had stated the dagger had been half-buried. “Animals most likely.” He said sagely and glanced over to where Kim was half-heartedly searching among the trees for her errant weapon. He lowered his voice to be certain she couldn’t hear him. “The…er…item isn’t in very good condition. Something tried to gnaw some of the flesh off it, the eyes were all but gone and the maggots were pretty much in evidence.”  
  
“Probably that fox we saw earlier. Or some birds.” Gary stood up and wiped his grimy hands on a tissue. “Well there’s nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary down here.” He glanced over in Kim’s direction. “Any luck with the weapon Sergeant?”  
  
She shook her head. This was beginning to be the perfect end to a perfect nightmare. Not only had she witnessed a horrific murder, she was now probably going to be up on a charge for being negligent with her weapon. She sat down disconsolately on a tree stump. “I can’t see it anywhere sir. Maybe that thing came back and took it.”  
  
“I think if we fan out and do a proper search of the area, police search style, we might have better luck.” Jim suggested.  
  
“Good idea.” Gary beckoned to Kim. “Come over Sergeant, we need to do a systematic search of the area.”  
  
The Chief eyed Gary askance for a moment and frowned slightly. This was police business, not military. Kim’s weapon wasn’t just a lost weapon, but evidence in a murder investigation. Why on earth was Matthews instigating this search himself? Why weren’t they just going back to Lydney and reporting back to that Inspector chap so that he could organise a proper search?  
  
There were too many questions and not enough answers. Matthews knew something for sure, although he wasn’t too sure whether the young police constable did. It was completely obvious that the weapons of the murdered trainees and any that the Staff Instructors had been carrying were also missing. Someone had taken them for sure. They had attacked the group, killed them and taken the weapons, so why was there no full blown terrorist alert going on? Another question that he had a feeling young Major Matthews would do his best to avoid answering.  
  
He tried to recall what he knew about Major Gary Matthews and came up with very little. The man had been very recently posted in from HQ 4 Division, but his F1 and FMed4 records hadn’t arrived. Since these went first to the Chief Clerk of the receiving unit as a matter of course before the arrival of the soldier who was being posted into the unit, he normally would have known about Matthews before anyone else did.  
  
He found himself surreptitiously observing the new Adjutant as Jim Moore explained the strategy behind police searches and formed them into a line at the edge of the search area. The policeman had already mapped the area out into sections. He got to the part where he was explaining about it being on hands and knees for some of the search when Gary interrupted.  
  
“I hope you realise that my ancient knees aren’t quite up to crawling around in the grass. You might have to help me to stand back up.” Gary caught the Chief staring speculatively at him and winked.  
  
Even the Chief Clerk had been aware of the flurry of female interest when young Major Matthews had arrived in camp rather unexpectedly at eight o’clock one Monday morning two weeks earlier without any kind of forewarning from Divisional HQ. He didn’t actually get to see what all the fuss was about until the new Adjutant arrived in the Orderly Room with his orders. Even then Knowles was baffled at the hormonal reaction of his female staff, all except for Kim Freeman who happened to have had the day off that day.  
  
The new officer was a very handsome man to be sure, if a person’s fancy ran to tall men with even features, superb physiques, warm dark blue eyes and beautiful smiles. Otherwise there was nothing special about him at all. His hair was cropped short military style and brown in colour but he did admittedly have an air of mystery and knowledge about him, as if he knew something nobody else did.  
  
Knowles imagined that this could go down very well with the ladies, but it would have little effect on the male population. Especially on him. However as the days had worn on, it seemed that he also had a rather nice sense of humour and down to earth attitude that everyone appreciated. He was good with the other ranks and didn’t talk down to them like so many other officer types did, so Knowles had gradually got over his initial suspicions and started to like him.  
  
Unfortunately with this incident, some of Knowles’ original reservations had come flooding back.  
  
Gary could feel the questions fermenting inside the older man. He hoped against hope that they wouldn’t suddenly erupt before he had completed his objective, which was to find the remaining missing weapon. He knew for sure that the others were in the wrong hands; he also knew that his orders were crystal clear. These weapons had to be retrieved as soon as possible and returned to their correct owners.  
  
Unfortunately, how he was to achieve this was less clear.  
  
He looked along their rather short line up to where Kim was standing. She was suffering some terrible guilt and self-reproach; he could see it written all over her face. Part of him wanted to go over, put his arms around her and try to reassure her, but he knew that it wasn’t the appropriate thing to do. The Chief doing it was a different matter entirely. He was her boss and a virtual father figure; he was also closer to her in rank and much closer to her socially. Gary knew that anything he did with Kim Freeman would be misconstrued so he willingly allowed Knowles to take charge where she was concerned.  
  
However one thing he would most definitely take his boss to task for was this grovelling around in the bushes and bracken and at some stage he would also have to have a conversation with Knowles about young Miss Freeman.  
  
“Gentlemen, lady, if you’re ready, I think we should do this. Time is getting on and once the sun goes in, what little light we do have will be gone.” Jim cocked an eye at the group and they all nodded  
  
oOo  
  
Chief kept an eye on Kim as she grovelled through the grass like everyone else. She was looking quite pale and distressed. Her eyes seemed to have shrunk into her head and there were purple shadows under them. Every so often she would stop in the search and just kneel there head bent in palpable despair.  
  
Survivor guilt. He thought to himself. And the worry about losing the weapon. He silently sent a thousand curses down on both his own and Gary Matthew’s heads. His because he had gaily sent her on the damn stupid course to start with and Matthews because he insisted on putting her through this ridiculous and pointless search without adequate reassurance that at the end of it her career wouldn’t suffer. Kim had a flawless military record, losing a weapon could mean a courts martial. He knew she was visualising being drummed out of the army in shame and resolved to have a few straight words with the good Major before the night was through.  
  
Events have a way, however, of changing resolutions, promises and even threats. Something was coming. Something nobody could have foreseen or even dreamt of.  
  
oOo  
  
They had covered perhaps only half of the ground area when the light began to fail. The sun which had dappled through the trees during the afternoon, giving a dim light at least, had now almost sunk below the horizon. Shortly dusk would fall and then they would lose light altogether.  
  
The Chief got to his feet and brushed what felt like half the forest floor off the knees of his combat trousers. Kim also stood and placed her hands on her aching back.  
  
“Sir.”  
  
Gary turned. “What is it Chief?” Although he had a good idea what was coming next. In fact he’d been waiting for the Chief Clerk to say something for the past ten minutes.  
  
“I think we need to call it a day and let the police do a proper search tomorrow. The daylight is almost gone and Sgt Freeman is all in. She needs to go back and get some proper rest in a real bed, not a hospital cot.”  
  
Gary nodded and glanced at Kim who stared back at him in trepidation. “I agree Chief. I must apologise for getting carried away. I thought that if we could find the weapon it would save Sgt Freeman some worry.”  
  
“Very commendable sir, but I doubt that we’re going to find it now…”  
  
He was interrupted by the excited voice of Jim Moore. “I think I’ve found something!”  
  
The burst of hope in Kim’s eyes was snuffed out when she saw that Jim was holding not her SA80, but one of the two magazines she had been carrying. She now recalled the contents of one of her webbing pouches spilling out as she fell to the ground as a result of being pushed by the instructor.  
  
“It’s mine.” She said miserably. “Stuff fell out of my webbing when I fell in the bushes. I didn’t stop to pick it up.” She turned to Gary and he could see tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry sir, I should have done better I know that.”  
  
Gary was silent and the Chief tried to will him to speak, reassure her, even give her a bollocking, but he said nothing. The frustration rose up in Knowles to the point where his hand balled into fist. Finally Gary broke the silence. “Chief, would you and Constable Moore check the number of rounds in the magazine for me please? See how many are missing and if there are any lying around. Sergeant Freeman let’s have a little private talk shall we?”  
  
She gnawed at her bottom lip and nodded. Gary led her in the direction of the thicket where she had lain a couple of days earlier and feared for her life. She stood with her head hanging. Gary regarded her quietly for a moment, then he spoke in a tone she immediately recognised.  
  
“Come to attention when an officer addresses you Sergeant Freeman!”  
  
She looked up at him in shock. He’d been quite gentle up until now and it had lulled her into a false sense of familiarity with him. She came to attention smartly, chin lifted.  
  
“ Is this the way the Senior Non-Commissioned Officers from this unit behave? I was led to believe that you were a well-trained disciplined soldier. Perhaps they were wrong about you.” He bent over and stared directly into her eyes. She was instantly transported back to her recruit training. “Well Sergeant?” He persisted, not showing even a glimmer of the sympathy he undoubtedly felt inside or a smile.  
  
“No sir, I mean yes sir. We don’t behave badly sir and I am a disciplined soldier. Sir.”  
  
A low growling rumble sounded in the distance and a slight breeze whipped up, causing the leaves to rustle loudly but as soon as it had sprung up, it died down again.  
  
He just kept staring at her and she kept staring straight forward and through him as if she was on parade and he was the inspecting officer. Beads of sweat had sprung out on her brow.  
  
“Christ, he’s being a bit hard on her isn’t he?” Jim muttered.  
  
The Chief shook his head. “No. He’s not being hard, he’s reminding her of who and what she is. A professional soldier. One thing you don’t do is tell a soldier to pull himself or herself together in a difficult situation. You do what he’s doing, you remind them of duty and what being a soldier is. You remind them of the pride they should have in themselves.”  
  
A slight reverberation rippled under their feet and they both looked down at the ground at the same time..  
  
“What the fuck was that?” Jim looked as puzzled as the Chief felt.  
  
“If I didn’t know we were in England, I would say that it felt like an earth tremor.” Chief said with a worried tone in his voice. He glanced around the clearing. “It’s gone very quiet again and the air feels too heavy. There was a bit of birdsong earlier, now it’s gone.” He looked over to where Gary and Kim were standing, apparently oblivious to the movements in the earth under their feet. “Sir, I think we need to leave. Now. Something strange is happening.”  
  
Both heads snapped around to look at him. At the same time, the rumbling noise had turned into an cracking noise which grew until it almost reached a shriek. It sounded to all of them as if the very earth was screaming in agony.  
  
Jim grabbed his arm. “Oh for fuck’s sake Chief. Look.”  
  
Chief followed his trembling finger and saw to his utter horror that the ground in front of them was beginning to split. As the fissure ran along the forest floor towards them it grew wider and wider and took loose earth, branches and small bushes with it. By the time it was only about ten feet away from the two horrified men, whole trees were tumbling into the huge chasm created by the sundering of the earth.  
  
Gary grabbed Kim by the arm and tried to pull her to him, but even as he did so there was a tremendous cracking sound. The ground literally exploded just behind her covering them both in a mixture of soil, twigs and leaves and to his utter horror she was pulled away from him as if by invisible arms and began to fall down the fissure that had opened up behind her. With one desperate effort he threw himself forward and managed to grab onto one of her hands. She slid a little further down and all he could see was her white terrified face staring back up at him. The worst of it was that she hadn’t made a sound through the whole thing.  
  
He flung himself flat on the ground and held on to her hand with all of his strength and in turn she gripped his wrist so tightly that her nails were cutting into his skin. He winced with the pain, but did not let go. “Hold on.” He yelled above the noise of an earth in pain. “Whatever you do, don’t let go of me.”  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Chief and Jim crouched on the narrow island created by the two now huge fissures. They were clutching onto each other as the ground rocked, shivered, shook and raged underneath them. After what seemed like many minutes but was probably only seconds the earth started to settle. Gradually the rumbling deep in the ground lessened until it had stopped altogether and an almost deafening silence spread over the area.  
  
Gary reached down and held out his other hand. “Take my hand Kim. Reach up as hard as you can and take it.”  
  
“I’m too heavy.” She whispered. “I’m too tired and my arms hurt.” Tears started to roll down her dirt-smeared cheeks making clean tracks in their wake.  
  
“Don’t you dare give up like that.” He hissed in fury, and she glanced up at him in surprise and shock. “I don’t want to hear it, not from you. You are better than that. Now take my fucking hand and hold on. I will pull you up and you don’t weigh anything at all. Enough with the self-pity and self-reproach. You are going to survive this. We are going to survive this.”  
  
With a sob of effort she reached up and managed to get a purchase on his hands and he slowly began to pull her up. When she was almost at the top she managed to get a foothold on a thick tree root that had been exposed by the earthquake and hurled herself forward into his arms. Her momentum sent him staggering backwards with her lying to one side of him on her stomach; that’s when he heard a sound that he recognised immediately. Acting entirely by instinct he wrapped his arms around her and rolled to one side taking her with him.  
  
They both heard three soft thuds in the tree that had been behind them as they had lain in the dirt only seconds earlier and they turned to look.  
  
Three thick black arrows with ebony coloured fletching were protruding from the tree trunk. They had been driven forcefully more than halfway into the wood and still shivered with the impact.  
  
oOo


	6. Wheres that Yellow Brick Road when you really need it Dorothy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)Telperinquar Quenya for Celebrimbor, meaning Silver Fist.

“The most dangerous thing in a combat zone is an officer with a map!”  
Murphy’s Military Laws  
  
  
Year 553, The First Age, The forest of Nan-Tathren, West Beleriand  
  
The SA80A2 had become an object of fascination, fear and trepidation. Ereinion Gil-galad sat on a tree stump in his campsite and gazed in turn at the other members of this council of war.  
  
Erestor looked long-suffering, as he always did, Gildor was lounging half propped on his side chewing on a piece of long grass, Lord Celeborn was seated cross-legged across from Ereinion, his silver-grey eyes riveted to the objection under discussion and Cirdan was seated on a fallen tree trunk looking as imperturbable and inscrutable as he always did. The only sign Ereinion could find that the situation worried Cirdan was the fact that he was stroking his close-cut silver bearded chin.  
  
Glorfindel alone appeared to be remarkably calm about their find. The ill feeling in the wood and the warning in the trees themselves that danger was nigh was worrying him much more than their strange discovery and he had told Ereinion so in direct terms when they had reported back from their scouting mission. Ereinion was hugely inclined to agree with him because that threat was closer at hand, but the object could not be ignored. If it was some device or weapon of the enemy then they needed to find out its nature and how it might be overcome. The very outcome of a battle and indeed the war might depend on it.  
  
One other was present at the council, Celebrimbor Curufinion, the only Feanorian with Ereinion’s force. Grandson of the notorious Feanor of Silmarils fame, he was tainted by the oath sworn by his blood relatives even though he was not present at its swearing. It had continued to taint his life even despite his repudiation of his father’s deeds. Being who he was, he was tolerated at best by most in the group, but Ereinion, ever the diplomat and kind-hearted person he was, had banned any direct acts of prejudice against him and given him his favour.  
  
Besides which, he was the was one of the great Elven artificers and therefore was of great use to Ereinion.  
  
Tall, slim and dark haired with luminous, almost charcoal grey eyes, Celebrimbor had some of the fire of his grandsire, although a trifle muted, and even some of Feanor’s desires, including being desiring of the attention of Finarfin’s daughter and Celeborn of Doriath’s wife, Artanis, or Galadriel as Celeborn had named her. His slender form belied the whipcord strength and sheer physical power of one who spent his days in the forge heaving metal around amongst other more delicate tasks.  
  
Many folk who had been acquainted with his grandsire looked into the eyes of Telperinquar(1), the ‘Silver Fist’, and saw the passion of Feanor lurking in their depths, but so far he had avoided any of the dire trouble that followed his uncles Maglor and Maedhros around. Instead he clung to the outskirts of the somewhat stifling Noldorin exiles’ society gaining a token acceptance even whilst he dreamt of greater and better things.  
  
Currently that slender form was lounging up against a leaning conifer, his eyes gleaming bright with interest at this unexpected bounty laid before him. He had none of the fear or trepidation that had clutched the others around their hearts, instead his callused hands itched to touch the thing.  
  
Like Erestor he sensed no danger from it, not as an entity in its own right, but that it could be dangerous, he would have readily believed. The cold functionality of it, the business-like sound it made when Glorfindel had cautiously pulled that fascinating trigger mechanism had gripped him with a fever that he could not abate. It was all he could do to lounge nonchalantly and not grab it like some opportunist thief and run away with it to a hideaway to discover its wonderful secrets. It was this avid curiosity to learn about new things that would ultimately destroy him hundreds of years later.  
  
However, he now waited patiently, his expression non-committal and even laconic, a casualness that only the light in his eyes betrayed.  
  
Ereinion’s piercing gaze finally rested on the Elven smith. He gave a wry smile as he saw the eagerness in Celebrimbor's eyes and sighed. “Lord Celebrimbor you have been quiet, what say you? Is Glorfindel correct, is it a weapon of some kind? And if so, is this the work of Morgoth?” He laid his strong, square capable hands on the metal of the object. “I sense nothing evil from it, but can evil be done with it? My heart tells me this is so. What say you?”  
  
The smith levered himself from his lounging position and squatted beside the object, which was still lying in the folds of Erestor’s cloak. He reached out and picked it up, but was aware of the collective held breaths of all present. It had a solid feel to it, but was surprisingly light. He noted the thin wide gap where, any modern soldier could have told him, a magazine would have fitted snugly, snapping into place with the same unmistakable, but lethal sound that all modern weaponry seems to have.  
  
He reached for the cocking mechanism, a small bolt, and drew it back with a short snick, noting that if he drew it all the way back it would lock in place.  
  
Cocked, locked and ready to rock. The phrase popped into his head from out of the blue and startled him slightly. Where had that come from? The first frisson of unease shivered down the back of his neck but was soon overtaken by his insatiable curiosity with this thing.  
  
The collective breath exhaled at the same time.  
  
“What did you do?” Ereinion asked in fascination.  
  
“I believe that there are a series of mechanisms within this object that allow certain things to happen sequentially.” He pressed the trigger and the moving parts inside were released with a dull thunking noise. Everyone drew back in unease and mild shock, but he ignored them. “What those things might be I cannot tell without stripping it down into its component parts.” Celebrimbor did not look at the King while he answered, he was too busy peering into the innards and down the barrel. “You need to let me look at it properly.”  
  
Ereinion looked thoughtful. “I am happy to let you do that, but in truth we have no time to wait while you do. I fear Lord Glorfindel is right. There is a great shadow over these woods and it is growing all the while we sit here in debate. I wish to reach the rearguard of the Army of the West without delay and they are far ahead of us, therefore we must press on.” He glanced around at the others who were looking at him with a mixture of consternation and doubt on their faces, especially Celeborn who didn’t trust Celebrimbor as far as he could throw him. “Take it with you. Do what you can with it and then give me a full report.”  
  
Celebrimbor beamed in pleasure and was unable to prevent himself giving Celeborn a look of mild triumph.  
  
Celeborn managed to turn a slightly disgusted snort into a cough at the last minute. He stood up and flexed his legs. “I take it we will make a start as dawn breaks.” He said shortly. “I will get at least a couple of hours of rest.”  
  
“Good idea.” Cirdan said. “I believe I will do likewise, and so should you Ereinion.” He gave his former charge a stern look and jerked his head towards where his and the King’s bedrolls were.  
  
Ereinion sighed inwardly. His decision would never have been accepted by all no matter what that decision was, but neither Celeborn nor Cirdan had the knowledge to do what Celebrimbor would do so thoroughly. He hated the divisions between the various Elven groups on Arda. He hated the quiet insidious comments that often followed the smith around and tried his best to offset them by showing how much he liked and respected Celebrimbor. And in fact it was no mere show of respect and liking, Ereinion genuinely liked the quietly passionate Elf and wished him well.  
  
He stood up and gave Cirdan a winsome smile. “You are right Cirdan, as ever.” He turned to Glorfindel who was Captain of the Watch. “We move as dawn breaks, see to it that all are told and set the watch.”  
  
Glorfindel bowed gracefully, hand over his heart. “It shall be done my Lord King.” He disappeared between the trees to take up his appointed duties and everyone else dispersed.  
  
Ereinion rolled himself in his blankets, fashioned a pillow for himself with his blue cloak and Cirdan followed suit. They had been quiet only a few minutes and Ereinion had begun to fall into the reverie of Elven sleep when the Shipwright’s gruff voice interrupted it.  
  
“I hope you know what you’re doing lad.”  
  
Ereinion rolled over to face him. “Do you mistrust Celebrimbor?” His eyebrows were arched in surprise and not a little curiosity. The dour, dry-tongued Shipwright seldom spoke sourly of others.  
  
“Celebrimbor?” Cirdan sounded just as surprised. “No of course not. What gave you that idea? I meant that thing. Perhaps we would do better to either melt it down or break it into a thousand pieces. It may not feel evil, but as you said earlier I sense evil can be achieved with it. If we keep it amongst us there will be tears before suppertime.”  
  
Ereinion huffed another sigh. Sometimes he felt that if there was a high honour and a prize for sighing he should have won it years ago, it was all he ever seemed to do. Just once he would have liked to have gone somewhere and done something without the myriad of complications that kept springing up beneath his feet. Not the least of which were ancient Elf Lords like Celeborn who by their very presence and demeanour constantly reminded him that many considered him to be nothing but a young Noldo upstart. “Perhaps you are right, but think on this. If this is some device of Morgoth and it is dangerous and there are more of them, do you not think we should be aware and at least make Lord Eonwe aware of it? We cannot achieve that without making an in depth examination of it.”  
  
“I didn’t say you’d made the wrong decision Ereinion. When I said that I hoped you knew what you were doing, I just meant that I hoped you knew what the ramifications of that decision might be.” Cirdan replied dryly. “Let Celebrimbor look at it, he is by far the best person for the job and I suppose it can do no harm. In any case it will be easier to destroy when it is in little pieces, will it not?”  
  
He finished with a flash of humour that made Ereinion chuckle. “Tears before suppertime.” He mused. “You haven’t said that to me in a long while. Not since I was an elfling.”  
  
Cirdan turned over and punched his bunched cloak to try and make it more comfortable. “Ah well. The die is cast now is it not? And you are an elfling no longer.” If you ever were in the first place. He thought but did not say out loud. “You must make your presence and authority felt by all Ereinion. You are the High King now, by right of succession. Others may be older and far wiser, but they are not the King. ”  
  
“I suppose so.” Ereinion settled back and tried to ignore the soft warning whisperings of the trees above them.  
  
oOo  
  
For a moment Gary and Kim clung onto each other as though their lives depended on it. A further arrow whizzed through the air and sank into the dirt beside Gary’s ear. He swore softly and scrambled to his feet lifting Kim up with him, whilst looking around wildly for cover. Grabbing Kim by the arm, he unceremoniously dragged her behind an oak tree with a very thick girth then he pushed her down flat and covered her body with his.  
  
In the meantime the Chief and Jim had realised that they were under fire.  
  
“Get down, get down, get down!” Knowles howled in the loudest voice he could muster which, of course, only drew the attention of their attackers from Gary and Kim to them. Seeing no real cover nearby all the Chief and Jim could do was make the smallest target out of themselves that they could by lying flat in the fairly long bracken. Even so, Gary could see from where he and Kim were lying that there was a bright fluorescent yellow hump in the grass.  
  
So could their attackers.  
  
A further two arrows spun through the air and spat into the bracken, one harmlessly fell a foot away from Jim but the other one pierced the corner of the sleeve of the yellow jacket and firmly pinned it to the earth.  
  
The fact that all of this took place in a rather eerie silence seemed utterly incongruous to the Chief. The only other thing that broke it, apart from the sound of the arrows winging their way in their direction, was the panic-stricken heavy, ragged breathing of the young policeman.  
  
Knowles ventured to raise his head slightly and saw Jim frantically trying to free himself. “Leave it!” He hissed. “Can you try to get out of the jacket and roll over towards me?”  
  
Jim’s head bobbed up and down in agitation as he tried to comply and Chief could see that his eyes were wide with terror. As well they might be considering that all someone had to do was to paint a huge red ring on him and the bow-men across the fissure would probably get a bullseye.  
  
The Chief let out a spurt of laughter when he saw Jim manage to get the jacket halfway down his arms, but couldn’t free his hands without moving them and attracting more arrows. The jacket was now around his waist and hips. He tried to move surreptitiously so he could wiggle the jacket off his hands and fling it to one side, but that movement raised him up slightly so that all that anyone could see was a yellow hump sticking out of the grass. Knowles couldn’t control his giggles which erupted causing the bracken to shake suspiciously. He knew it was partly nervous reaction to being under fire and partly because he found the idea of being pinned down and watching a bright yellow bobbing arse getting shot at truly hilarious.  
  
Gary watched the pantomime from behind the tree with Kim and let out a soft groan of exasperation. “What the fuck does he think he’s doing? Lie still Jim.” He called over. “Lie as flat as you possibly can and stop struggling, you’re making more of a target of yourself by jiggling about.”  
  
Kim was much more fascinated by the scene across the fissure than she was the antics of Jim Moore.  
  
“It’s them.” She breathed. “It’s that thing and more of them. They’re going to kill us. We’re like sitting ducks.”  
  
Gary immediately turned to her and put one finger against her lips. “Shut up Sergeant. I don’t want to hear that kind of talk from you. They are not going to kill us. For one thing, the arrows aren’t long enough to get through the tree trunk. We just need to stay put for the moment, so I can think.”  
  
Her eyes swivelled in the direction of Jim, who was now lying flat. The sound of him panting from his exertions was loud in the silence. Gary followed her look and pursed his lips. “Well at least the only part of him they can shoot now is his bum. I think we can manage to take a couple of arrows out of that, once I’ve figured a way out of this.”  
  
She tried to keep the giggles in, she really did, but they kept coming out in spurts until she was breathless. Gary thought she might be hysterical and considered slapping her face to bring her out of it, but then he saw the funny side and started to laugh as well. This in turn triggered the Chief off again.  
  
“Oh great.” Jim’s affronted and plaintive voice floated over from the yellow hump. “That’s right, bloody have a good laugh at someone else’s misfortunes. It’s all right for you lot, you’re all dressed in fucking camouflage. I look like a huge fucking canary.”  
  
Whoops of laughter greeted this litany of complaints and the more they tried to stop, the harder they laughed.  
  
oOo  
  
The activity across the fissure stopped abruptly. At the sound of the laughter, the large creature that had decapitated Bob Irwin put his hand up and stopped one of his comrades from notching another arrow into his bow. He stood staring across the fissure as the hysterical whoops of laughter cut through the air.  
  
“Why do they laugh?” Snarled one of the creatures in anger. “Truly these man-creatures are mad. Do they not know that we will kill them soon? We should go and capture them alive now. Torture them slowly after they have watched us pleasure the woman and kill her.” He licked his thin lips in anticipation.  
  
The large creature looked at him coldly. “And how shall we do this Grodok?” He looked contemptuously at the other’s short bow legs. “Are your legs long enough to jump across that?” He pointed at the crack that had split the ground open.  
  
Grodok gave him a surly look and walked over to the fissure, which was at least twelve foot across at its narrowest point. “You are tallest Thagak.” His short leprous-skinned index finger stabbed out at his companion. “We have rope. You must try to jump across and we will follow.”  
  
The rest of the creatures nodded and grunted their agreement.  
  
Thadak’s face suffused with fury. He drew his sword instantly and held it against Grodok’s scrawny throat, pressing the point home until it pricked the skin and caused dark blood to trickle out. “You would like that wouldn’t you Grodok? For me to die jumping the hole and you become leader? You steaming little pile of warg dung.” He snarled. “I haven’t forgotten that you were the maggot who lost sight of the woman in the first place when we were stalking the others.”  
  
Some of the others took up the complaint. “Aye. She was promised to us by the Other. He who came from the Great One in Thangorodrim. She was to be our prize when we captured the Elf and those things the man-creatures carried which shoot fire and you lost her.” They advanced upon Grodok who started to back away in terror when he saw the anger and ever-present desire for revenge in their eyes.  
  
“There is always the Elf. He would be as much fun to fuck as the woman.” He said in a placating voice, desperately trying to take the attention off himself and his failure.  
  
They all turned to look at the bound figure who was the silent witness to all of this. Not even the dirt streaking his face and in his hair nor the blood crusting his bruised and grazed cheek where he had been struck could hide his beauty. He in turn regarded his captors calmly through the tendrils of gold hair that framed his face and considered his fate. Not for the first time in the past few hours it had to be said.  
  
The truth was that if Grodok was to succeed in ousting Thadak as leader, Melannen knew his chances of reaching anywhere alive or remaining alive were few. Grodok was a follower, a dumb foot soldier with not an original or innovative thought in his body. He had three needs, food, fight and rape and he wasn’t particular which gender he did the latter to. He was too stupid to understand that with a hostage like Melannen he had a bargaining chip for both sides.  
  
Thadak on the other hand had a certain animal like intelligence in his black eyes. He was astute enough to work out that if he did the bidding of his masters, he would advance himself. With him as leader Melannen knew that he had a fighting chance of staying alive long enough to escape or be rescued. He didn’t care which it was; whichever opportunity offered itself first.  
  
With his colleagues’ attention on the Elf, Grodok decided to make his bid for freedom. He scuttled sideways, edging his way to the high thorn thicket that had originally been on the opposite side of the fissure and which, ironically, had been Kim’s temporary refuge two days earlier. Unfortunately he didn’t get very far when a hoarse cry from one of the creatures alerted them all to the fact that Grodok was making a run for it.  
  
Thadak turned and advanced on him, sword still drawn and smeared with Grodok’s blood. Grodok stopped short when he realised that he couldn’t get past the thicket and instead he started to back away. Thadak’s thin lips bared over his awful teeth in a triumphant smile. He lunged and Grodok scuttled backwards, straight over the edge of the fissure.  
  
Melannen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when all of the Orcs went to the edge and watched with interest as their former colleague disappeared down the hole in the ground and into its black depths. His cries of terror echoed and bounced off the walls of the fissure then dwindled to a distant scream which was cut off abruptly presumably as he reached the bottom.  
  
“Do you think he is dead?” One of the Orcs asked.  
  
Thadak burst into hoarse laughter. “I do not know Ugougoth, do you want to go down and see? I will help you do that.”  
  
Ugougoth backed away with a look of terror on his face. They all broke into raucous laughter and Thadak cuffed the disgruntled and embarrassed Ugougoth around the back of his head hard enough to make his head rock and his eyes water. He pointed at the bound Elf. “Bring him. We waste no more time or arrows on them. They will not survive anyway. If we do not kill them, some others will. Without their spitting fire-sticks they have nothing to defend themselves with, and we have those.”  
  
Ugougoth picked up the other end of the noose and pulled on it hard. Melannen was pulled from a sitting position and landed flat on his face. Ugougoth bent down and whispered in Melannen’s delicately pointed ear in his brutal version of the common tongue. The Vanyar’s nostrils wrinkled in disgust at the foetid stench from his breath. “You’s going to have to get up and walk pretty little Elfie boy, unless you wants me to drag you all the way to Thangorodrim.”  
  
Melannen didn’t understand all the words that Ugougoth spoke, but he got the drift very quickly and staggered to his feet. Ugougoth gave a hard contemptuous jerk on the rope and turned away after the other Orcs dragging Melannen after him.  
  
oOo  
  
The sound of the altercation on the other side and the cessation of hostilities against them at least, managed to put a stop on the hysterical giggles from Gary and the others. The hoarse scream as Grodok was virtually forced over the edge of the chasm in the ground definitely brought them back to reality.  
  
“They’ve gone.” Kim said softly. “And they have that blond man with them.” She pointed at the tall, slim, slightly glowing figure that one of the creatures was dragging behind him.  
  
Gary stood up and helped her up. They both watched as their attackers stomped off through the undergrowth. Gary walked to the edge of the fissure and as he looked, the captive turned and gave him a faint smile. Gary bent his head and bit his lip. It was becoming very obvious that they had to do something about freeing him.  
  
The why was obvious. They simply couldn’t leave that beautiful creature with those monstrosities from hell. The how was going to be a big problem and one they all needed to discuss. Before that, they needed to discuss their current dilemma of being trapped between two gaping cracks in the earth.  
  
oOo  
  
Note: (1)Telperinquar – Quenya for Celebrimbor, meaning Silver Fist.


	7. All that is necessary for evil to succeed is that good men do nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.

“I don't know why we are here,  
but I'm pretty sure that it is not in order to enjoy ourselves.”  
\- Ludwig Wittgenstein  
  
  
Jim Moore stood at the edge of one of the gaping fissures and stared out at the opposite side. Since the earth had thrown a fit and turned itself upside down he had spent most of the time trying to avoid being shot at, by arrows of all things and hadn’t had time to take stock of the changes in his surroundings.  
  
The Police training and the many briefings had prepared him for many of the evils of being a policeman, but none had included being shot at by primeval creatures with bows and arrows or being involved in earthquakes. Perhaps he could write a new chapter for the training manual. The first chapter would begin with ‘All yellow jackets will be dispensed with immediately and disaster recovery in earthquakes training will commence shortly’.  
  
He glanced around quickly just to make sure he hadn’t lost sight of the others. Kim and the Chief were tracking the fissure behind him to see how far it went along. If it narrowed at some point then they would cross as best they could and make for Parkend and the cars. If they were still there. In fact if anything was still there. None of them knew how far-reaching the earthquake had been, his radio didn’t work and neither did the Chief’s or Gary’s mobile phones so they were cut off from the outside world completely.  
  
Gary was tracking the fissure the other way for the same purpose. Jim was supposed to be doing this one as well, but all he could do was think about what might have been happening to his family and friends. His desire was to find a way across and head for Coleford, but if they could get to the cars it would make more sense. They could get help faster. That’s if there was still help to be had.  
  
He frowned. There was something strange about the forest on the other side of the fissure but it was nothing he could put his finger on precisely. It just felt different. The silence was also unnerving. He had never been in the forest before and not heard the sounds of the trees rustling or the noises of birds and animals. Instead of those normal sounds all was deathly silence. He squinted across the gaping wound in the earth. Was it the trees? They looked different somehow, there were more oaks than conifers and the oaks looked young and slim.  
  
Jim glanced behind him at the wide trunk of the oak that had sheltered Kim and Gary. It was too wide for anyone to wrap their arms around and as far as back as he could remember, the oaks in the forest had all been huge trees. Conifers had appeared at some relatively recent stage of development of the forest; they interspersed with the mighty oaks and there were clumps of them here and there with their dark evergreen pine needles and the fresh scent of the pine cones. He looked back at the forest across the fissure and then it hit him.  
  
There were no conifers on that side, nary a one and many of the oaks were still saplings, although there were many adult trees too. His mouth dropped open, was that a beech over there? And a rowan? Some areas of the forest were classed as ancient semi-natural woodland and they had rowans and beeches. There were also birches there which he loved with their silver grey bark, but this part of the forest had been ancient oak interspersed with conifers for as long as he remembered. Parkland and veteran trees the Forestry Commission called it.  
  
Another thing was that by rights he should be looking straight in the direction of the campsite which had just been beyond a clump of conifers and there had been a path through the bracken. Now there were no conifers and no path, just a myriad of oak tree trunks rising out of gorse and bracken and the occasional spreading width of rowans with their white scented spring flowers. He strained to try and make out familiar landmarks, but nothing on the other side of the fissure was familiar.  
  
If that had all gone, then what about Coleford? And how come was there spring blossom on the rowans when it was the back end of summer?  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
The sudden question startled him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Gary was standing by his elbow with a question in his eyes.  
  
“Ah. Yes. I’m okay, at least I think I am.” He said blushing. “Sorry, I should have been checking how far this went along, but it suddenly struck me how different everything looks.”  
  
Gary raised an eyebrow. “Different? How?”  
  
Jim found himself stammering out his feelings and thoughts. They sounded silly once they were put into words, but Gary seemed to accept what he was saying.  
  
The army officer pursed his lips and frowned across the fissure. After a few seconds of intense scrutiny he turned to Jim. “You’re absolutely sure about this?”  
  
Jim nodded. “Rowan shouldn’t be flowering in late summer. It flowers in spring around about the same time as apple and cherry blossom. My grandma has one in her front garden and although she loves the white flowers she always complains when they fall because they make a mess like confetti outside a church. There have never been rowans in this part of the forest, just oaks and conifers and my grandpa has often said that in ancient times the forests around Coleford were all oak. The Spanish Armada were supposed to have been told to destroy the Forest of Dean because that was where the navy got their supply of oak timber for their ships.”  
  
“I suppose that the earth tremor could have upset your perception a bit, but whether the forest has changed or not we’re not going to get anywhere unless we find a way across the chasm. It seems to go for miles in that direction.” Gary gestured to the side he had been walking along and smiled as reassuringly as he could at the troubled young policeman. “So how about we look this side for a way across and then worry about whether everything has altered? If anything has.”  
  
Jim sighed and nodded. Gary was right. The first priority was to find a way off this island they had been stranded on and they needed to move quickly, daylight was almost completely gone.  
Year 553, The First Age, on the edge of the Forest of Pen-Tathren, West Beleriand.  
  
Ereinion awoke from his reverie with a start as someone gently touched his shoulder.  
  
“Wake up.” Celeborn’s face was grim. “Something is happening deep in the forest. The trees are in great distress.”  
  
All around him Ereinion could see Elves standing and staring in the direction of the heart of the forest. “How…” He tried to moisten his dry throat by swallowing. “How long has it been going on?”  
  
Glorfindel answered him. “Not long, only seconds, but the trees were whispering and alarmed all night and the horses are uneasy”  
  
“I know.” Ereinion said wearily. “I heard them. I thought it was just because there had been deaths in the forest.”  
  
Celeborn shook his head. “It is more than that. The very earth is troubled. I can feel it through the soles of my feet. Deep inside the earth something is happening, although what it could be I do not know.”  
  
Ereinion looked over at Cirdan. “What do you think?” He asked softly.  
  
Cirdan rubbed his chin again. There had been so much watchfulness in the atmosphere around Arda since the Host of the Valar had landed, it was difficult to tell if he was just uneasy about their presence and what it might mean or whether something drastic was happening with the environment itself. The trouble was that whenever the Valar did interfere in Arda great upheavals and changes followed and he had a horrible feeling that they were responsible for a lot of the strange happenings around Beleriand.  
  
They all looked at Cirdan expectantly. The Shipwright had awoken at Cuivenan and was probably the most ancient of the Eldar in Middle-earth. He knew the land and its moods well.  
  
“I think that this war will have long-lasting ramifications for Arda and its people.” He answered finally. “It is certain that when the Valar intervene it does not come without a price. One thing I do know for sure is that I have seen precious little wild life or game in this part of Beleriand. I had thought it was because of the fighting and the situation would improve once we reached the forested areas, but I have not seen hide nor hair of any beast of the earth or air for at least two days now.”  
  
A distant rumble deep in the forest resolved itself into a shivering of the earth beneath them. The horses whinnied and flared their nostrils in mild panic and the Elves looked around them uncertainly.  
  
“We had better strike camp I think.” Ereinion tried to sound unconcerned, but there was an edge of worry in his voice. “We need to press on in any case.”  
  
The deep rumble sounded again but this time it was accompanied by a loud groaning noise. The Elves looked up anxiously and full of fear. The trees were rustling and the branches were bending as though they were being pushed with an invisible hand.  
  
Glorfindel didn’t wait to see whether the King changed his mind or his orders. He strode around the various campfires of the Noldorin force exhorting them to break camp quickly and they obeyed without question although with a slight edge of panic in their seemingly orderly actions.  
  
Celeborn had been standing quietly off to one side, his eyes distant and slightly silvered over. He now turned to Ereinion. “My lady wife says that the tides along the coast have been the highest for many seasons. Some ships in the mouth of Sirion have broken anchor and floated out of the harbour although they have now been retrieved. The waves are high and they have had to stop the elflings playing on the beaches.”  
  
Ereinion didn’t bother to ask how Celeborn knew. Galadriel’s ability for far-speaking had long been common knowledge. “Does she see a need for evacuation to higher ground?”  
  
Celeborn nodded. “She and Galdor have already begun to make arrangements for the families in the lower lying areas to move them and their livestock to a safer higher place. They are moving out of Beleriand and further north up the coastline. And Ereinion…” Ereinion had turned to prepare his own departure when Celeborn stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked at Celeborn enquiringly.  
  
“Galadriel also says that the wild beasts of the forests and the area have become non-existent. They have all left. For where, she and the woodsmen cannot tell, but they are gone. Not even the birds remain.” Celeborn said quietly.  
  
Ereinion’s expression became grimmer. “When the wild beasts and fowl of the air leave, it is time for the rest of us to depart also. Give Lady Galadriel my compliments and ask her if she will carry on with those arrangements. I grant her the authority to take whatever measures she needs to take to ensure the safety of the people. Let messengers be sent to the Edain settlements also. They are welcome to go where we go, there is room for all. I will have nobody caught short in whatever disaster is looming over us. I could almost curse the Valar for waging this war. It is all very well seeking their errant fellow Vala and indeed it would be a relief to get Morgoth out of our hair, but do they really have to upset everyone else while they are doing it?” His tone dripped bitterness and a touch of defeat. “Have we not all lost enough? Must we be herded until we have nowhere to run and no choices left to make?”  
  
Celeborn’s hand dropped off the young King’s arm. He felt utterly helpless in the face of Ereinion’s anger and distress. There was nothing he could say and no comfort he could give because his own heart was filled with the same anger and distress. All he could hope was that his Galadriel did not leave it too late for her own evacuation. It would be just like her to remain until her own escape route was cut off.  
  
“It’s useless.” The Chief said dourly. “It’s too bloody dark to see anything now and the flashlight batteries will run out if we use them too much. As far as we can see there is no end to the chasm on the Parkend road side, at least not as far as we can see in the gloom. Perhaps we’ll be better looking in daylight.”  
  
“Are you suggesting that we stay here?” Gary asked.  
  
Chief shrugged. “Unless you want to fall down a bottomless hole in the dark, yes, most definitely that’s what I’m suggesting.”  
  
Kim sank down onto the ground and hung her head. “We can’t stay here in the dark. We don’t have any sleeping bags or food or anything with us. It’ll be cold soon.”  
  
Gary looked sharply at her. “I know our situation isn’t good Sergeant, but we are just going to have to make the best of a bad situation.” He looked around at the others. “We need to find out just exactly what we have got that will be of any help in this situation. Empty your pockets kiddies, let’s see what bounty we have.”  
  
“No Bounties (1).” The Chief grinned. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out two Tracker bars and a packet of extra strong mints which he threw on the ground. “Just a Tracker or two. It’s my little addiction.” He said defensively when he realised that they were all looking at him. He then added an empty hip flask. “Don’t ask.” He said when Gary raised his eyebrows at him.  
  
Kim managed a little better. She had four bars of chocolate from the Composite (1) rations that she’d been given before the start of the ill-fated exercise. She also had four teabags.  
  
“Four teabags?” Gary looked at her in bewilderment. “Do I want to know why you have four teabags in your combat jacket pocket?”  
  
She giggled. “I don’t really know, it was just as I left the Mess before getting on the vehicle somebody told me to take extra teabags, so I did.”  
  
Gary laughed and the Chief shook his head in disbelief. “Well I may just give that somebody a big hug when I get back.” He said. “I’m no good in the morning until I have my first cuppa.”  
  
“Jim?” Gary looked at the young policeman who blushed.  
  
“I don’t have much.” He produced two packets of potato crisps.  
  
“How about you?” Kim asked Gary.  
  
He pulled the contents of his pockets out and spread them on the ground. There were no edible items, but he did have both matches and a lighter and his wallet with money and credits cards.  
  
“Bloody typical.” Chief said with a smirk. “Trust an officer to have no sense of practicality. We all have snack stuff, he has matches, money and plastic.”  
  
Gary had the good grace to blush and laugh. “Sorry Chief. I just didn’t think I’d be somewhere where I’d need to fill up on sweeties.”  
  
“Never mind.” Chief winked at him. “The matches will come in handy and there’s plenty of wood around to make a fire.”  
  
Kim looked at him with some trepidation. “Should we risk that? What if those…things come back? They’ll see the fire.”  
  
“I don’t think they will come back, not now.” Gary said quietly. “I think we can risk the fire, but only a small one. We need to mount a guard as well. Take it in turns. I’ll take the first watch. I don’t feel much like sleeping anyway.”  
  
An hour later they had a small campfire burning. Chief had taken charge of the food, such as it was and they had found a small pool of fairly clear water which had originally been part of the small stream but was now cut off from its source. They filled the hip flask with the water.  
  
“I reckon the water in the pool is safe for the moment.” Jim had said. “But it won’t be in a couple of days when its stood without any kind of replenishment. It’ll get stagnant quite quickly, especially in warm weather.”  
  
They shared out one packet of crisps and two of the chocolate bars between them and then settled in for the night. Kim was now curled up in an exhausted sleep and Jim was lying on his back looking up at the stars. The Chief stood up and stretched.  
  
“Can’t sleep Chief?” Gary called over softly so as not to disturb the others.  
  
The Chief quietly made his way over to where Gary was leaning against one of the trees staring out into the darkness. “It’s at times like these that I wish I hadn’t given up smoking.” He sighed. “I could just do with a ciggie.”  
  
Gary smiled and his white teeth gleamed in the darkness. “Sorry I can’t oblige Chief, it’s one vice I haven’t managed to attain.”  
  
“So why do you have the lighter and matches?”  
  
There was a long silence before Gary answered. “The lighter belonged to a friend who was killed in Iraq.” He said with an edge of pain in his voice. “I always keep the matches handy just in case. Something I’ve done since my early days when I was stuck without anything to light a fire in the middle of nowhere.”  
  
“Damn good habit to get into.” The Chief’s voice was quiet. “I’m sorry sir.”  
  
He sensed rather than saw Gary’s face turn to him in the gloom. “For what?” Gary asked.  
  
“Your mate, the one who was killed in Iraq.”  
  
“He was a soldier doing his duty. He knew the score when he joined up. Trouble was that he left a wife and young family behind.”  
  
“That’s damn rough.” The Chief said sympathetically.  
  
“Yeah. Rough.” There was a finality in Gary’s voice that clearly indicated that he didn’t want to continue that particular line of conversation.  
  
“What about tomorrow sir?” Chief asked.  
  
“Tomorrow we look for a way over. I think the idea of going back to Parkend is pretty much a big negative, so it looks like forward towards Coleford is going to be our best bet, but only if we find a way over.”  
  
“And if we don’t?” The question hung in the air between them like a bad smell.  
  
“If we don’t, then I don’t know.” Gary looked at Chief who could see the gleam of teeth again. “How are you at Tarzan impressions Chief?”  
  
“Do you mean the beating the chest and howling at the top of my voice? Bloody marvellous sir, even if I say so myself. I’m known in Sergeant’s Messes all over the place for my Tarzan cry. It’s my party piece at Regimental Dinners.” The Chief grinned back at him and Gary chuckled.  
  
“I’ll just bet it is. However I was thinking more about the swinging through the trees part.”  
  
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way sir. But to be honest I would have thought a fit young man like you would be better at the gymnastics than an old geezer like me.” Came the dry reply. “I think I’ll turn in now sir, if you don’t mind.”  
  
“Of course Chief. Get some rest. I’ll wake you in three hours for your watch.”  
  
Gary listened while the Chief settled himself down on the cold forest floor. It took a few grumbles and muffled curses but finally silence fell around them once more.  
  
Major Gary Matthews silently cursed his superiors for getting him into this.  
  
If I have to do the Tarzan thing, you are NEVER EVER going to hear the end of it. He vowed to the silent heavens.  
  
(1) Bounty – A coconut filled chocolate bar.  
  
(2) Composite Rations. Easy cook instant meals, whi


	8. Lead me, follow me, or get the hell out of my way  Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curunir is one of Saruman's other names

"An ”The army is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team.  
This individuality stuff is a bunch of bullshit."  
\- General George Patton Jr  
  
  
The March of the Host of the Valar, Year 553 First Age  
  
The light of Middle-earth might well have been more delicate than the Blessed Isle of Aman, but Rion could still appreciate the crisp freshness of the early morning air and the earthy smell of a forest still covered in dew. Pale shafts of sunlight managed to steal through the thick canopy of foliage and created light in the dimness. Everything here smelt different. The scent of the leaves and the earth was more subtly drawn; the water did not have the rich wine-like clarity of the springs and falls in Aman but an odd metallic taste which told of origins deep in the mountains of fire that had been part of the birth of Arda. Nothing had prepared him for the fact that Middle-earth was more like a pale cousin many times removed in comparison with the rich, scented and scintillating fullness that was his homeland.  
  
“You will find Arda Marred to be vastly different to anything you have grown used to.” His atar who had awoken at Cuivenan and followed Ingwe and Orome the Valar over to Aman cautioned grimly. “The forests are ancient and dark. It is rumoured that many terrible things still roam there. On our journey to the coast before coming to the Blessed Isle many were lost along the way, not least to Melkor the deceiver with his honeyed tongue and his creatures. Arda Marred is a dangerous place best now left to the beasts. It is no longer a fit place for the Firstborn and it is only the fact that the Valar wish to remove Morgoth that they send an army there to settle things once and for all and open the road West for those who deserve it.”  
  
“What of the ban on the Ngolodh kinslayers?” Rion had asked curiously.  
  
His atar’s face darkened. “They deserve no mercy from us. Namo pronounced their doom as they left Aman, let them live with it as best they can. They do not deserve a place here.”  
  
His wife sighed deeply, but made no comment, instead she kept her attention on her loom.  
  
“I know what you feel.” His atar said defensively casting a glance at her. “I have heard many say the same; that the Noldoli deserve pity and forgiveness. Tell that to those who lost loved ones at Aqualonde, tell that to the Teleri widows who grieve for their husbands. Not all of them have been yet released from Mandos. Too easily have the crimes committed by the Feanorians been forgotten here. However there are many who do not wish them to be here.”  
  
Rion exchanged a wry glance with his mother who smiled faintly and encouragingly at him. “It is my belief that Lord Manwe will offer the kinslayers a release of the ban nevertheless. We cannot continue to live with this hatred among our kindred, Noldor or otherwise, it will destroy us. Forgiveness must needs begin some time. Let it be now.” She countered gently and snipped off one of the richly coloured threads of wool. “And now I must make supper. We need an early night if we are to travel to the coast to see Rion off with the Host.” She stood up and went into the kitchens to supervise the evening meal.  
  
The anxious faces of his parents were the last things Rion had seen as the ship carrying him and many other Vanyarin warriors pulled away from the quay. He desperately strained to keep them in view even as the thin ghostly tendrils of mist curled themselves around the ships and the Elven warriors who still crowded the side, hopeful of keeping their loved ones’ faces in their memory; not knowing when or if they would see them again.  
  
It was the brightness of the ship carrying the Maiar Eonwe, Herald of Manwe that guided the fleet through the mists that had been caused to form around the Blessed Isles in order to hide them from the eyes of mortals. His inner light shone like a beacon of hope and courage even when the mists grew thicker and darker. Rion and many of his companions had been heartsick and only recovered when the fleet had finally cleared the mists and the sparkling wine-dark seas of Middle-earth had become evident.  
  
The sound of hooves jerked Rion back into the present. A dapple-grey stallion, a splendid beast, rode swiftly past the column where Rion and his comrades in arms marched behind their Lord Ingwion and his senior commanders. Long white hair streamed from the rider’s head and he looked neither left nor right, not even to check that no one was in his way. As he passed he turned his head briefly and looked directly at Rion who saw his face and decided that it was akin to a hawk or even an eagle perhaps. He had a large hooked nose and bearded mouth set in a hard straight line below eyes of depthless black.  
  
“Don’t stare too hard.” An amused voice said in Rion’s ear. “He may turn you into something wholly unnatural.”  
  
Rion turned to find that a dark-haired ellon had reined in his huge bay horse beside the column and was grinning mischievously at him. He struggled to remember his name but only succeeded in recalling that his liege-lord was Finarfin, High King of the Noldor who remained in Aman after the kinslayers had left and that he had been attached as liaison to the Vanyarin column.  
  
Rion frowned as he watched the grey stallion disappear with his rider in the cloud of dust kicked up by the horse’s hooves. “I do not remember him from Aman.”  
  
The Noldor smiled. “He was there, but you will not have seen him on the slopes of Taniquetl much. He is Curunir, a Maiar of the order Istari, or Wizard as some name him. He is a servant of Aule here to assist Lord Eonwe.”  
  
Rion looked troubled. “Can he turn me into something unnatural?” He asked doubtfully.  
  
The Noldor threw back his head and roared with laughter, then he shrugged nonchalantly. “Who knows? He is a Maiar, he is probably capable of conjuring many things just with a wave of his hand. He works with fire and the clay of the earth and Aule smiles upon his creativity.” He dug his heels into the bay’s sides. The horse reared slightly and whinnied causing the fair-haired warrior in front of Rion to turn and glare fiercely. Cheerfully unconcerned about the anger directed at him the Noldor bent down slightly towards Rion as his horse pawed the ground, eager to be off. “I would be careful though. You caught his eye. He could well have earmarked you for his next project.” Then he was gone leaving Rion standing with his mouth open and looking foolish. The silvery laughter trickled back along the track.  
  
“What project?” Now Rion looked much more than troubled.  
  
The fair-haired warrior shook his head. “Cursed Noldorin, you would think that here in the land of their kinslaying kindred, they would act with some decorum. The fruit seldom falls far from the tree.”  
  
“You must not be afraid of Curunir little one. He would not hurt you. Nor will he turn you into a toad.” A deep amused voice interrupted them before Rion could answer the warrior. They both turned and immediately dropped to one knee in front of the mighty Eonwe himself. Behind him, on the largest coal black horse Rion had ever seen sat an imposing figure with the glow of the Valar and the music of the Ainur clinging to his person. Bright yellow hair flowed from under a winged silver helmet and his eyes were atwinkling periwinkle blue.  
  
“Lord Tulkas.” The warrior breathed in awestruck tones. “The Valar grace us with their presence this day.”  
  
Despite being as awestruck as his colleague at the sight of the Commander of the Host and one of the Valar casually riding alongside the column, Rion was more concerned at the idea that he might end up as a wizard’s experiment.  
  
Eonwe seemed to sense his perturbation,he dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to the fair-haired warrior who bowed deeply. “I would be grateful if you would lead my horse for me.” He said quietly and the warrior inclined his head, conscious of the great honour bestowed on him. The Maiar gave him one of his swift beautiful smiles and then turned to Rion. “Walk with me for a little while.”  
  
Rion blushed to the roots of his hair. What on earth had he done now? Everyone in the column was now staring and whispering to each other. At least it felt that way to him and it was hugely embarrassing. To his great relief Lord Tulkas did not dismount. Instead with a gentle pressure of his knees he slowed his horse to keep pace with Eonwe and Rion.  
  
“Your name is Rion is it not?” Eonwe asked him.  
  
Rion bobbed his head furiously. “Yes my Lord, but how did you know of me?”  
  
Eonwe gave him a strange little smile. “Think you that I do not know every Elf and creature in my charge here in Arda Marred? What kind of commander would I be were I not to interest myself in the affairs of those who will fight in the name of the Valar and Iluvator?”  
  
“I would think that you have a very large memory my Lord.” Rion said admiringly before he could stop himself. “There are thousands here.”  
  
Another beautiful smile and Rion’s devotion was captured forever. “Tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands, but my memory is both large and long. Which is just as well since I will have to account for each and every one of you, both to Lord Namo and Lord Manwe at the end of the war.” He changed the subject abruptly. “You were the warrior in charge of the search partythat went to look for Lord Melannen were you not?”  
  
A shadow fell across Rion’s face. “Yes my Lord.” His failure to find Melannen still distressed him greatly. Tears filled his eyes and he struggled to stop them from rolling down his cheeks.  
  
“Lord Ingwion told me of your conversation with him.” He laid a gentle, conforting hand on Rion’s shoulder. “Do not let your heart be troubled child. Destiny is not so well ordered that everything happens without disruption. It is more like a great ocean that swells to mighty waves when you had thought to have calm waters and becomes a millpond when you expect a great storm. You were not destined to find Lord Melannen, for his path now lies in a different direction to ours, at least for the moment. Be at peace young Rion, you must gather your strength and courage for the battles yet to be faced and won.”  
  
Rion furiously blinked away his tears. “But what if those hideous creatures, those orcs, have him? He will need us to rescue him.” His voice was laced with despair.  
  
“We can spare no others for it now, all are needed for the battle to come.” Eonwe answered gently. “But do not despair. Be easy in your mind that others have been allotted that task and even now move to achieve it.” He gestured to the warrior who held his horse and mounted when the animal was brought to him. Once mounted he smiled down at Rion. “I will look for your progress with interest Rion. Namarie.” Then he dug his heels into his horse and cantered away followed by Lord Tulkas. Rion’s hopelessly adoring gaze followed the tall handsome Maiar until he and the Vala were swallowed up among the trees.  
  
“You should be careful to whom you bestow that devastating smile young one.” Tulkas said jovially. “I think you have gained yet another admirer. You leave them floundering in your wake like lost children.”  
  
Eonwe looked shocked. “Are you suggesting that I deliberately arouse their devotion and then treat them like mere flotsam and jetsam on the waves? Shame on you for thinking that I could behave so callously Lord Tulkas.”  
  
“Oh I don’t think you even realise you’re doing it.” Declared the Vala cheerfully. “But if you asked that young ellon to crawl to the final battle on his hands and knees I swear that he would do it and eat dirt all the way in the hopes of just one smile from those beautiful lips of yours.”  
  
Eonwe touched his lips without thinking and then, realising what he was doing, crossly put his hand back on the neck of his horse. Tulkas saw him and gave a sly chuckle. “It’s the physical form you choose to take my lad.” He stared critically at the Herald whose shapely brows drew together in a horrible scowl under the scrutiny.  
  
Eonwe’s chosen form was that of a human mortal with rounded ears, unlike the leaf shape of the Eldar, but any further resemblance between him and an ordinary member of the Edain on Middle-earth ended there. His hair hung in glossy golden brown waves to his waist and, when not tied in warrior braids, usually framed his strong square shaped face and a chin scored by a deep cleft.  
  
His eyes were blue, but instead of the pale periwinkle of Tulkas, they were a dark and moody hue framed by thick dark lashes. His mouth was finely sculpted and yet mobile and when he smiled two deep dimples peeped out on either side of it. His physique was matchless. Broad shoulders and muscular chest narrowed down to a slim waist and long, perfectly shaped, finely muscled legs completed the picture. The whole effect was emphasised by the distinct golden glow that emanated from his skin.  
  
“What exactly is wrong with my form?” Eonwe demanded.  
  
Tulkas shrugged and grinned. “Oh absolutely nothing. You cut a very fine dashingly handsome figure, especially for a human.”  
  
“I always wear this form.” Eonwe sounded affronted. “Everyone is used to it. If I suddenly appeared tall and willowy with a thatch of golden hair and pointed ears nobody would know who I was. Confusion would reign. Not least from Lord Manwe himself.”  
  
Tulkas shouted with laughter. “I am just saying! Oh my, you are just too easy to bait my child. Just be careful where you cast that lethal smile of yours or you’ll be leaving a trail of broken hearts and fading Elves behind you wherever you go.”  
  
Eonwe rolled his eyes in exasperation and disgust. “Did Lord Manwe send you to me just to torment me?”  
  
Tulkas’ face grew serious. “Not at all. He sent me to aid you. Your beautiful smile and form will count as nothing when we finally face Morgoth. Then we shall see if my lessons in warcraft have been learned well.”  
  
Eonwe sighed. “Are you here to take command my Lord?” He asked formally.  
  
“Not at all. Command of the Host was rightfully given to you and I can think of no-one better to lead them.”  
  
Eonwe stared at the Vala. “Then when the final push comes you will allow me to lead?”  
  
Tulkas smiled gently at him. “Are you asking me whether I will muscle in on you and take command or whether I will follow you?”  
  
Eonwe was silent for a moment. “Both.” He said finally.  
  
Tulkas raised a blond eyebrow. “Perhaps I will do neither.” He said with a mischievous wink.  
  
“Then if you can’t do either, at the very least stay out of my way.” Said Eonwe with a determined glint in his eyes.  
  
Tulkas’ roar of laughter was so loud the trees rustled and the ground shook.  
  
“I do wish Lord Tulkas wouldn’t do that.” Finarfin said crossly as he tried to control his nervous steed. “He frightens the very devil out of the horses.”  
  
“Not to mention the rest of the Host.” Murmured his second in command.  
  
Note: Curunir is one of Saruman's other names


	9. Fools rush in where the Valar wish them to tread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.

"What if nothing exists and we're all in somebody's dream?  
Or what's worse, what if only that fat guy in the third row exists?"  
\- Woody Allen  
  
  
Ingwion pulled off one of his soft boots and winced as an ache assaulted the base of his spine. So much for the Eldar not ailing, he thought to himself wryly. I now have muscles I did not even know I possessed and a sore backside to boot.  
  
Eonwe set a fast pace for all on this march and heaven help the stragglers, not that there were many of those; not with bands of Orcs roaming the countryside. However, when the Herald of Manwe called for speed, his armies did not ask why or complain, they asked instead, how fast do you wish us to go? Now Ingwion was suffering the consequences of the fearsome pace the Maia leader set.  
  
This whole war was nothing like he had imagined it to be, although he would have been hard put to describe what he had imagined prior to deployment. Even the many long and sometimes tedious briefings on the terrain, the enemy, the friendly forces of the second-born and the in-depth discussions about the Eldar who still remained in Middle-earth that Eonwe had held on the way across the sea had seemed unreal and faintly silly somehow.  
  
They had to march far to the north to Thangorodrim, the three mighty peaks raised from the Iron Mountains by Morgoth and the seat of the enemy itself. Along the way they would encounter many hazards and obstacles not the least of them being the creatures, both friendly and unfriendly, not all of them walking on two legs. The one constant would be the Orcs that served Morgoth.  
  
It was by the malice of Melkor that the Orcs arose, although no one knew for sure from whence they had derived, Elves or Men. Envious of the beautiful Elven race, Melkor and his spirits, some of them Maiar who had willingly followed him, had taken many living beings and corrupted them by means of dark arts, so rumour held that it was perhaps both races who had been unwilling contributions to the mix.  
  
So it was that the army of the Valar from the Blessed Isle knew nothing of the Orcish race at all. They had gathered up many small fighting forces from the Edain who had answered Eonwe’s call to arms once they landed and there were some independent small bands of Elves from Middle-earth who had also attached themselves to the Host as it marched. It was these last from Middle-earth itself who were the only part of the army that really knew the nature of the enemy’s troops.  
  
No amount of briefing from Eonwe on the long journey across the sea from Aman could have prepared the Host of the Valar for the reality of the enemy on the ground.  
  
Ingwion, Finarfin and their troops had learned the hard way that the small bands of Orcs who were far away from the control of Thangorodrim acted entirely on their own and according to their own desires and needs, often neglecting any orders they were originally given. They fought among themselves as much as they fought against the targets specified by Morgoth or his lieutenant, Sauron. Orcs killed Orcs and then they devoured what they had killed.  
  
The sweeter flesh of Elf or Man was held as a special dish and highly prized. Ingwion had now lost count of the number of Edain and Elvish homesteads they had found razed to the ground and nothing left of the inhabitants but a pile of bones and severed heads. Women, men, children, animals, nothing was left and the flesh was devoured raw although sometimes they did stop to cook their meat depending upon whether or not they were being hunted. All the Elves could do was bury what they found, mourn the loss and send out warriors to track the Orcs and kill them.  
  
It was such a group that must have fallen upon Ingwion’s brother Melannen and his small patrol and it made him sick to his stomach and angry beyond belief to think of those beautiful warriors, some of whom he had known since they were elflings, being torn apart limb from limb like animals and devoured. He had wept many tears of self-blame and anguish over this and could not get the memories of his younger brother as an elfling playing on the slopes of Taniquetl or wide-eyed at festival time out of his mind. The visions tormented him and stopped him from taking the rest he so desperately needed.  
  
How was he to describe his brother’s death to his mother and father? Was he to tell them that being ripped apart and devoured by hideous parodies of the Elven race was a glorious and valorous death for a good and just cause?  
  
No, nothing Eonwe had told them had prepared them for this disgusting mess that was Middle-earth.  
  
He buried his head in his hands and wept anew. Huge sobs racked his frame and he desperately sought to control himself so that no one would hear him. Yet still the tears came and would not be stopped. Even the knowledge that if his brother and the others were indeed dead then their spirits had gone to Mandos did not assuage his grief or dissipate the terrible visions that assaulted him when he closed his tent flap for the night’s rest.  
  
Ingwion had taken to dealing with his grief during the day and those nights they marched and did not camp by furiously killing every Orc that crossed his path, but nothing seemed to ease the pain.  
  
He sighed wearily and spread the maps before him once again, but even as he pored over them assessing the terrain, possible ambush points and potential supply areas his eyelids drooped over tired, red-rimmed eyes and he sank into a fitful sleep.  
  
As he slumbered, a tall slender figure dressed in filmy grey raiment stepped from the shadows and observed him for a while, her beautiful eyes filled with compassion. Este the Gentle, healer of hurts and weariness laid a slim white hand on the top of his head and gave him the best gift she could offer him; that of rest.  
  
ooOoo  
  
Somewhere deep in the woods, England....  
  
“Sgt Freeman, just think of it as one of the obstacles on an assault course.” Gary’s previously patient and encouraging tones were beginning to get an edge of exasperation.  
  
The good Major had been delighted when they had discovered part of the fissure where one of the uprooted conifers had fallen straight across forming a sort of bridge. It was not the widest bridge to be sure, nor was it the safest, being rather rounded and a little on the slippery side. Gary had demonstrated his considerable acrobatic abilities by running lightly from one side to the other without showing fear of any kind and declaring it a piece of cake. He was just mightily relieved that he hadn’t needed to display his tree swinging qualities and volunteered a prayer of thanks to whatever power was out there listening to his heartfelt pleas of the previous night.  
  
Jim had been the next to cross using the fallen tree. By rights Kim should have gone next but after five abortive attempts all of which stopped short at her actually putting her foot on the tree, the young policeman offered to go across to show her how easy it could be even if a person wasn’t as light and fleet-footed as a certain military officer show-off.  
  
“Perhaps we should cross together.” Suggested Chief, who was determined not to come across until Kim was safely on the other side. “I could walk just behind her.”  
  
“And do what? Catch her if she falls? The surface of the bark is too smooth and slippery Chief and I’m not entirely sure it will take the weight of two people.” Gary bent down and eyed the tree doubtfully. “Best not to risk it. She can do it, I know she can do it.”  
  
Kim was deathly pale. The trouble was that she had just been through too much and now every obstacle no matter how tiny looked like the side of a glass mountain. “I’ll try again sir.” She said desperately trying not to burst into tears again. It seemed to her as though bawling like a child was all she was capable of these days, and she hated herself for it. She wanted to prove to all three men that she wasn’t a wimp and a liability. So far she had failed miserably. Now was her chance to prove differently.  
  
They all held their breaths as she slowly and carefully approached the tree trunk, stepping over the bits of branch that they hadn’t managed to break off to ease their passage across. She lifted one boot and placed it tentatively on the rounded surface, then closed her eyes and lifted herself up until she was balancing on the very end, which was safely anchored on what they hopes was relatively solid ground.  
  
“Well done.” Gary’s soft voice sounded across the chasm to her. It was gentle and encouraging again and she allowed the deep tones to wash over and soothe her for a moment.  
  
He really had the nicest voice. In fact, all of him was rather nice.  
  
Her eyes snapped open at the abrupt change of her pattern of thought and she wobbled. The Chief’s arm shot out towards her and the other two each drew in a sharp breath, but she shook her head and managed to regain her balance again.  
  
You need to stop that. She told herself firmly. He’s an officer and he’s off limits. Just because he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and he’s kind to you doesn’t mean that you’d stand a chance with him. Oh god, the first guy she’d been interested in for ages and he had to be out of bounds. Now that was bad organisation and very bad timing considering their predicament.  
  
“You can do it Kim.” His deep voice soothed her again and she took another few slow measured steps. She was now a quarter of the way across. So far, so good. She tried to take another step and then put her foot down uncertainly. It slid slightly across the smooth bark and for one panic stricken second it looked as though she would fall, but again managed to regain her step much to the palpable relief of the onlookers.  
  
Gary wanted to tell her just to break into a swift run and the momentum of speed would carry her over the last few feet, she would then at least be close enough for either Jim or him to catch. The trouble was that he could see she wouldn’t be able to break out of her fear long enough to do it. He sighed deeply and tried to reach her again using his calmest, most reassuring, tone of voice.  
  
“Kim. Look at me.”  
  
His tone had changed to something very melodic and mesmerising and Kim’s head reared up at the sound, which seemed to be more inside her head than anything else. Her fear-filled gaze locked with his and she could see now just how amazingly blue his eyes were. Not the pale blue of northern waters, nor the bright blue of a summer sky, they were a rich dark blue and she couldn’t think of an adequate comparison to anything.  
  
What she did know was that the melodic tones of that voice were drawing her deep into those eyes and therein lay great peril. If she took a nose-dive into those deep blue pools, she might never re-surface again. She blinked furiously and tried to think about something else, but her treacherous gaze once again locked with his and she found she couldn’t, didn’t want to, look away.  
  
“Don’t be afraid Kim. Follow my voice and walk towards me.”  
  
Like a sleepwalker she began to put one foot in front of the other. The Chief and Jim looked on anxiously as Kim sure-footedly and calmly walked along the log towards the Major who stood smiling faintly at her. He held out his arms and she grasped them, grinning with delight at her triumph. She basked in his warm, approving smile.  
  
“Well done Sergeant. You finally got here. You see? It’s not so bad if you just concentrate on something else.” Gary gently gripped her arms harder and then let her go.  
  
Like your eyes. She thought as a feeling of disappointment swept over her when he stopped holding her. She obstinately pushed the errant thought to one side. This was no romantic walk in the park and she was no young girl feeling the flush of first attraction to a handsome young man. This was a serious situation and there was no place for dalliance of any kind. What she needed to do was get a grip and do it quickly, so she masked whatever emotion may have been showing on her face and smiled faintly at him instead.  
  
Gary noticed her sudden reticence and was both relieved and vaguely disappointed at the same time. In another time, another place, another life even, he might have taken a chance and indulged in a mild flirtation, but not today and not here, it just wasn’t appropriate. A niggling feeling of something impending was chipping at the edge of his mind. They needed to get away from this forest and quickly.  
  
The Chief crossed without any hesitation, running lightly along the log much in the same way Gary had done. The more their little journey together continued, the more Gary began to realise that there was more to Chief Knowles that met the eye. He had undoubtedly served operationally all over the world in some infantry capacity, but had probably re-badged because of some injury that ruled him out of the more active arms of the service.  
  
Unfortunately there was no time to reflect on this. Now that they had reached the other side of the gaping fissure left by the earthquake, the more pressing need of reaching civilisation and getting together some sort of rescue or investigation team had reached the top of the priority list.  
  
He gathered them together under one of the large oaks. “Well now we’re across, there are a few issues Jim brought up that everyone needs to be aware of.” He nodded at the policeman. “Tell them exactly what you told me.”  
  
The Chief and Kim were silent as Jim explained about the difference in the trees and the rowan’s flowering pattern.  
  
“Thoughts? Opinions?” Gary’s sharp gaze swept over the other three as he threw open the discussion.  
  
Chief leant against the tree and ran his hand along the bark. “I would say that the first thing we need to do is head towards where the campsite…er crime scene was originally. That should surely tell us what, if anything has changed. By that I mean the extent of the effect of the tremor. I presume that we’d be heading in the direction of Coleford if we did that anyway?” He looked at Jim who nodded.  
  
“Yes. Coleford is in that direction. I agree with you. The trouble is that I don’t recognise any of this now and I’ve been exploring this part of the Forest for donkey’s years. It’s as if the forest is going backwards in time. The last really old oaks like this old lady were felled to make Elizabethan warships.”  
  
“Kim?” Gary used her first name without thinking and then mentally kicked himself for doing so.  
  
She gnawed nervously at her bottom lip. “I don’t really want to look at the crime scene, couldn’t we just skirt it and head straight for Coleford. I mean, we found Mr Irwin’s head didn’t we? And one of my magazines? We should go back and report my weapon being missing I suppose” Her tone was both slightly pleading and reluctant.  
  
“I’d forgotten about the head.” Gary said slowly. He turned to Jim. “Where did you put it?”  
  
Jim flushed to the roots of his hair. He slowly turned towards the island between the gaping wounds in the earth and pointed in the general direction of where they had come from. “I’m afraid in all the excitement of being shot at, I threw it down and forgot to pick it up when we found a place to cross. It’s back there, where we made camp, unless it fell down one of the holes. I honestly wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.” He said remorsefully.  
  
Gary sighed. “Don’t worry Jim, it was understandable under the circumstances, but I suppose we’d better go back for it. I’ll go.”  
  
He started to walk back over towards the fallen conifer and then stopped dead in his tracks.  
  
It nearly always happens that in these sorts of precarious circumstances the best laid plans of mice and men usually go badly astray and their particular circumstances were to prove no different.  
  
As if commanded by some force beyond their ken, some of the earth underneath the conifer that had been their bridge across the chasm slowly broke away and slid into the depths with the merest whisper of sound taking the tree with it.  
  
“Well I guess that sorts that out.” Chief said softly after a few moments. “What happened to the magazine?”  
  
Gary patted his pocket. “I have it.” He turned and shook his head. “If I didn’t know any better…” He muttered under his breath. “Let’s head out. Lead the way Jim. You know this area better than any of us so we’re all in your hands now.”  
  
Jim headed off in the direction of the location of the campsite, now a police crime scene and gestured for the others to follow him.  
Half an hour later  
  
“I don’t understand it.” Jim stopped and ran his finger around the material of his damp and sweaty shirt collar. He looked around him in despair. They had stopped in a tiny clearing that was surrounded by drooping willow trees yet there didn’t seemed to be any water nearby. According to Jim, the nearest river was a few miles away and the Forest of Dean had very few willows, if any at all.  
  
“Where did these come from? It’s always been oaks here.” He sounded bewildered and a little bit put out and Gary was hard put not to laugh.  
  
After starting out with pale, lukewarm rays struggling to pierce the thick canopy of leaves and branches overhead, the sun had arisen and the temperature with it. Kim had removed her combat jacket and tied it around her waist, Gary and the Chief had done likewise and Jim was carrying his uniform jacket across his arm. He had long since ditched the yellow protective gear. All of them were hot, thirsty, grubby and sweaty and one hip flask of water between them was just not cutting it.  
  
Kim sank to the ground and rested her back against a fallen log. She tried to fan herself with the small notebook from the inside pocket of her combat jacket but to no avail. It simply didn’t produce enough breeze to make any difference.  
  
“We should have reached the campsite ages ago.” Jim said despondently. “I must have gone in the wrong direction.”  
  
Gary leaned against another tree and the Chief slumped down beside Kim. “Stop beating yourself up Jim. We’ve got enough with Kim doing it. Let’s just catch our breath and then we can take stock of our surroundings. We might just be a little off course.”  
  
A little off course? Chief wondered to himself. They were a damn sight more than a little off course. “Have you noticed that we still haven’t seen any birds or wildlife since we started walking?” He asked out loud.  
  
Gary nodded. “Yes, but it may be just because of the severity of the tremor. Animals and birds know when to make themselves scarce in time of danger. They have much more sense than us and a deeper connection to the earth. Don’t wander too far away from the rest of us Jim we don’t want to lose you.” He called after the policeman who had walked to the tree edge and was straining to see if he could recognise anything.  
  
Jim came back with a look of excitement in his eyes. “I think we might be at the edge of this part of the forest. I reckon that the A4136 is not far on the other side of the trees, but we should hit the B road into Coleford before that!”  
  
Gary levered himself into a standing position. “Okay troops. You heard the man. Civilisation is within our grasp.”  
  
Kim sighed with relief and stood up, brushing earth and remnants of dead leaves and twigs off the seat of her combat trousers. She held out a hand to the Chief who took it, groaned loudly and stood up. “Oh me poor knees. Dear god, I’ll be bloody glad of a cup of tea, a shit, shower and a shave, in that order.”  
  
A gaping silence met his words. He looked around and quirked an eyebrow at them.  
  
“Too much information?”  
  
“Way!” Came the combined reply.  
  
Another Half an hour later  
  
“I simply don’t understand it.” Jim stood at the edge of the trees. “Where the fuck is the A4136? You should just be able to see it and the outskirts of Coleford from here.”  
  
There was a distinct note of panic in his voice. Up till this point he had been quiet and positive but now he just sounded young and scared.  
  
Gary put his hand on the young man’s arm in sympathy. “Okay.” He soothed. “Let’s try and be calm about this and go over the facts slowly. Fact number one, we’re in the Forest of Dean which is oak, beech, birch and some conifer right?” Jim nodded. “And presumably we’re still in the Forest of Dean but it’s now turned into a wood full of weeping willows.”  
  
“Yes.” Jim’s voice was a despairing whisper. “There are willows down by the River Wye and the Monnow, but not here in the Forest of Dean.”  
  
Gary looked over at the Chief and Kim who were both looking frazzled around the edges. The Chief shrugged and shook his head. “Don’t look at me sir, I never was into trees much. One tree looks much like another to me.”  
  
“Fact number two.” Gary ignored the Chief’s faintly facetious comment. “The A4136 should be straight ahead of us and it should be just visible to us along with the nearest big town of Coleford.” He shaded his eyes against the sun. “I don’t see anything that looks like a road system or a town. How about any smaller villages? What else should be here, but perhaps a little closer?”  
  
Jim’s gaze swept around the vista laid out in front of him again. “Mile End or Berry Hill should be visible as well, depending on where we’ve come out of the forest. They’re quite sizeable villages.” He turned to Gary in despair. “I know this place sir, I’ve lived here all my life and I’m telling you. Things are just not where they are supposed to be. Those trees aren’t supposed to be here.” His voice broke with a sob, and he swallowed furiously to get and get himself under control again.  
  
“I see a river over there.” Kim had joined them. She pointed. “Look, you can just the sun reflecting on it. It looks like a shiny silver ribbon from this distance.”  
  
“She’s right.” Chief squinted into the distance. “It’s not all that far away either, maybe a couple or five miles away at most. The forest looks like it goes down to the banks and then continues on for a bit on the other side.”  
  
“See anything familiar at all yet Jim?” Gary asked the distraught young man quietly.  
  
Jim shook his head. “Nothing. I’m not even sure that we’re in the same forest. Except that…” His voice trailed off miserably.  
  
“Except what?” Gary asked encouragingly.  
  
“Well, that river is exactly where I would have said that the A4136 should be.” He frowned. “I seem to remember reading something about when they were building it. I was doing something for a school project about the area in ancient times and how things had changed. There was bit in an old book of my dad’s about the A4136 being built alongside a really ancient riverbed. They apparently found signs of very early settlements. My dad says that there was a huge outcry from the archaeologists because the Transport people just wanted to bulldoze everything down so they could build the road. It ended up with them moving the road over about a half a mile so that the archaeologists could start a dig.”  
  
“Where did they think the river had originated, do you remember?” Gary asked quietly.  
  
Jim huffed a sigh. “I think they said that it might have originally been a tributary of the River Wye and something happened to divert the flow, so it just dried up.”  
  
“Hmm. The evidence of settlements would make a lot of sense considering that it was common in ancient times to build a town or village near a river or water source. Commerce and traffic were better if they had some means of transportation like boats.” Gary mused.  
  
“Could the earthquake have caused it to shift back?” Kim suggested.  
  
“It’s possible, but highly unlikely to have happened overnight. If it did and flooded the road then we’re likely to find a bit of a mess down there.” Jim shook his head. “Anyway, apart from the fact that the river is where the road should be, I still don’t recognise any of the landscape and where are the villages?”  
  
“Well there’s one way to find out isn’t there?” Gary spoke in a determined voice. “We go down there and look for ourselves.”


	10. Oh, oh, oh what a lovely War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.

“Success occurs when no one is looking,  
failure occurs when the General is watching.”  
\- Murphy's Law of Combat# 105  
  
  
West Beleriand, along the banks of the River Narog, Year 553 FA.  
  
Ereinion bent his dark head and lost himself in thought as they left the willow wood of Nan Tathren behind them and turned northwest along the western bank of the River Narog in the direction that would eventually take them through what had been Nargothrond. He was currently wondering, for the thousandth time, whether he was leading them all on a fool’s errand.  
  
The call to arms as Eonwe and his army landed at Brithumbar had not included the Elves, any of them. Not the Green Elves who had no wish to involve themselves, nor the Sindar many of whom blamed the Noldor and their accursed war with Morgoth. No word had reached Ereinion about whether they were expected to play and part and many had darkly muttered about the Noldor exiles not being welcome as part of the Host of the Valar since they still laboured under the Doom of Mandos. Indeed, since nothing had been heard about them joining the Host, Ereinion, Cirdan and the others assumed that this was the case.  
  
At first the idea of letting that huge army drive its way across Beleriand and up to the north seemed the best. With Eonwe driving the Orcs and other fell creatures before him, rending huge amounts of destruction as he went it had seemed, on the surface at least, a good rather than a bad thing. At least it drew the enemy from the gate and allowed the Elves of Middle-earth a much-needed breathing space.  
  
So for a while there was a form of peace and time to re-group for those weary and exhausted with war and atrocities, but as time wore on and as they had more time to think, the more they asked themselves and each other questions about the possible aftermath of such a war. Not least of which was ‘what will happen to us after they have defeated Morgoth?’  
  
It was a question on the mind of every Elf under the rule of the recently crowned High King of the Noldor in exile and no less on the mind of the High King himself. It was also the one question nobody could actually answer. Many had their thoughts on the subject, but nobody yet dared to put those thoughts into words.  
  
Ereinion knew fine well what Cirdan thought. The Valar seldom interfered without massive consequences, but the burning question was, what were those consequences likely to be?  
  
The news that the tides were rising and that the animals and birds had migrated told him that something was happening and it wasn’t going to be pleasant. It hurt him to think of the innocents that might get caught up in the wrath of the Gods. Everyone on Middle-earth had suffered so much and they were all so tired. It might have seemed like a wonderful idea to send a massive destructive force of arms to purge Middle-earth of its worst oppressor to those sitting on the tranquil slopes of Taniquetl, but to those who lived under the shadow it was a double-edged sword.  
  
Every nerve in Ereinion’s body was screaming for him to go back and evacuate everyone he could instead of continuing on this course of meeting up with Eonwe’s force and possible rejection. However the stubborn part of his brain insisted that he and the other Elves in Middle-earth, not all of them exiles, had a right to fight for what was, in effect, their homeland and for many, including Ereinion, the place of their birth.  
  
For this reason Celeborn had elected to ride with the ‘still wet behind the ears’ upstart Noldor High King, not because he swore allegiance to him or the cursed Noldor, but because this was the land of Celeborn’s birth too. Unlike his wife he had not seen the Light of the Trees and Aman meant very little to him. This was his place.  
  
Of course there was also the matter of his wife Galadriel, who was counted among the Kinslayers under the Doom of Mandos. Whatever the result of this war and Earendil’s plea or the rising of Gil-Estel, Galadriel would not wish to return meekly to Aman and slip into the role of obedient subject and dutiful daughter, even if her illustrious father Finarfin wanted her to. Galadriel still had dreams and desires and Celeborn would stand by her steadfastly while she tried to achieve them.  
  
And what of that strange item they found? Celebrimbor no doubt would have found the time to break it into its component parts, but the speed of their march meant that a proper examination would not take place until they next set up camp. The more Ereinion thought about the strange cold object with its functional metal moving parts, the more he felt that it was linked to something happening with Morgoth and even if they were turned away by Eonwe, they needed to bring the thing before him with some sort of report on its purpose.  
  
That was Ereinion’s story, and he intended to stick to it.  
  
After a while of pushing his thoughts around his aching brain he became aware that the golden-haired Glorfindel had eased his horse in beside him. “You seem troubled.” He said softly to the High King.  
  
For a minute Ereinion let the soft, melodic tones of the other Elda wash over him. Nearly everything about Glorfindel reeked of confidence, joyous laughter and beauty. He found himself wondering if the Valar had sent him back for that very reason. Things never seemed so bad when Glorfindel’s rich, musical laughter rang out. It was as if he brought the sunshine out from behind thick dark clouds wherever he went. Spirits lightened in his wake and those around him could not help breaking into wreaths of smiles.  
  
He grinned at Glorfindel. “I was just wondering if I am leading everyone into folly.” He admitted candidly. “There is a part of me that says we should go back and help evacuate everyone.”  
  
“You seem convinced that something terrible is going to happen.” Glorfindel’s voice took on a serious note, an unusual thing for him.  
  
Ereinion sat up straighter and drew in a deep breath, then he turned to his companion. “Do you not feel it in the air my friend?” He swept an expansive arm all around him. “Something is happening in the earth. The very air, the smells of the forest and the steams and rivers are altered. The animals are gone; we have seen no birds since the rumblings in the earth near Nan Tathren. It is as if the land here is beginning to fade and die.”  
  
Glorfindel gave him a sympathetic smile. “Yet all is still green, and the flowers still bloom, the breeze still sends the scents of the foliage and plants into our nostrils. There is still great beauty in these lands. I do not see the decay you seem to be seeing. Mayhap it is the residue of the destructive wake of the Lords of the West that holds you in its grip. Try to find some peace Lord Gil-galad. You are doing what you believe is the right thing to do and that is all any of us can do.” He laid a gentle hand on Ereinion’s arm. “Do not torture yourself so my friend or anticipate further horrors. Such things come upon us unbidden and unawares as it is without us worrying them into existence.”  
  
Without further ado he raised his golden voice in a song. The clouds of doubt and uncertainty began to lift from Ereinion Gil-galad’s overwrought young mind when he realised that Glorfindel was singing a song popular in many taverns across Beleriand, a song that much over-exaggerated the valorous exploits of the famous Lord of the House of the Golden Flower against one of the mighty Balrogs of Morgoth.  
  
The laughter rippled out of him and the sound of his rich tenor accompanying the Balrog Slayer in harmony brought a lightness to their journey and a smile even to Celeborn’s lips.  
  
ooOoo  
  
The office of the General Officer Commanding HQ 4 Division, Aldershot Garrison, England, present day....  
  
The stern, fearsome looking man with short iron grey hair sitting behind the large mahogany desk was not in a benevolent mood. His pale blue hawk-like gaze swept over the assembled officers and his fingers tapped out an irritable tattoo on the aforesaid desk.  
  
“Let me see if I have this right.” His voice was deceptively soft but even so, each word fell like the knell of doom into the ghastly silence and everyone within earshot flinched.  
  
Those who had no errands in the vicinity of the General’s office scurried away hastily to their various hidey-holes. The General’s rage and reach tended to be very long and he often scooped up completely unsuspecting innocents who were stupid enough to be loitering in the corridor outside, right along with the guilty who were lined up in front of him.  
  
The only person who wasn’t afraid of him was the Garrison Regimental Sergeant Major. He wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything.  
  
However at this moment in time, it became known generally in the headquarters that the General was about to tear somebody apart and feed them to his Cavalier King Charles spaniel. This charming little creature with the winsome look and melting brown eyes was known affectionately to his master as ‘Mugger’, mainly because he had a habit of sinking his teeth into the ankle of any unfortunate who passed by the General’s office door while it was open. The Chief of Staff had been known to refer to it as ‘that tenacious, shit-arsed little fucker’, but never in the General’s hearing. Even the COS stopped short at that kind of professional suicide.  
  
The General stood up and went to one of the French windows that looked out onto part of the Garrison. Mugger, who was lying in his basket beside the desk looked up with immediate interest, jumped out of the basket and trotted over to the window via the line-up.  
  
Five military officers and an SIB Military Police detective held their collective breaths and six pairs of legs shifted nervously as a moving ball of soft hair with a squashed jaw full of needle-like teeth ambled past within a hair’s breadth of vulnerable flesh. The collective breath exhaled in one relieved sigh when the animal, plumy tail thumping gently on the polished wood flooring and pink tongue lolling rakishly out of its mouth, sat down beside the General and looked up hopefully.  
  
Even if Mugger had decided to take a lump out of someone, that someone would have suffered in silence and agony rather than give the General the satisfaction of knowing that his dog had claimed yet another victim.  
  
The General didn’t look down. Instead he rummaged in his trouser pocket and came up with a doggie treat which he gave to Mugger, then he turned and fixed all the human occupants of the room with his gimlet gaze.  
  
“Are you trying to tell me that not only do we have nothing but a pile of human bones and sixteen severed heads who were originally seventeen soldiers currently serving Her Majesty, Her Heirs and Successors, we also have seventeen missing assault rifles along with magazines and ammunition. And to add insult to bloody injury we have now also lost Sergeant Freeman female type who was the only survivor of the massacre, one Army Major, one Warrant Officer and a police constable? The list is growing longer gentlemen. I want explanations.”  
  
A great deal of shifting and clearing of throats took place. Nobody wanted to be the one to answer because the General’s ire would then land solely on that person and they would be the focus of the whole unfortunate interview without coffee.  
  
“Well?” The General literally barked out the word and Mugger emphasised it with a short woof of his own. “Is there anybody here with the guts to explain this?”  
  
“I think you’ve just about got the right of it General.” Detective Inspector Alun Davis’ deep voice cut through the fear-filled atmosphere. The six assembled military personnel parted like the Red Sea to reveal Davis sitting calmly, one leg slung casually over the other, in one of the easy chairs at the back of the room which were normally reserved for special guests.  
  
The General’s complexion took on a purplish-pink hue. “And just who might you be sir?” He demanded, walking up to the completely unfazed policeman. Mugger dutifully followed the General, but not without snapping at the MP’s trouser leg as he trotted past. The MP let out a muffled curse which he managed to change into a cough at the last minute.  
  
Davis smiled enigmatically and bent down to scratch the little dog behind his ear. To the astonishment of the assembled company Mugger reacted to the caress by ecstatically stretching his throat for more scratching and thumping his back leg gently on the floor. The General’s glittering glare which had been known to fell those made of stern military stuff softened slightly.  
  
“Nice dog.” Davis said with a smile. He stood up and held out his hand. “Detective Inspector Alun Davis, Lydney Police sir. If you’ll allow me I believe I can fill you in on the details of the disappearances.”  
  
The wind was completely taken out of the General’s sails. “Yes…yes of course Detective Inspector. Please do sit back down.” He suddenly realised that they had a rather fascinated audience. “Why are you all still here? Dismissed. You!”  
  
He pointed a finger at one of the officers, a newly-promoted Captain in the G1/G4 (1) section. The Captain blanched and stepped back clumsily straight into a slender occasional table that held a silver framed photograph of the General’s wife, Mrs General. The table rocked precariously and the photograph slid to the edge before falling through the air in dreadfully slow, but almost graceful, motion watched by the horrified onlookers.  
  
Showing a speed that would have impressed many of the Physical Training Instructors in the Garrison, the Captain launched a desperate rescue attempt. He managed to grasp the corner of the frame and straighten the table at the same time. The assembled group let out a collective sigh of admiration and almost felt like applauding. He settled Mrs General back on the table and gave her an affectionate pat before straightening up again.  
  
“Yessir!” He said smartly, coming up to attention.  
  
For a moment it seemed as though the General might actually laugh. The corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably and a strange anguished expression crossed his face and filled his eyes, but then as quickly as it came, it went.  
  
“Tea.” He said cryptically.  
  
“T...tea sir?” Stuttered the Captain completely thrown of balance by that one word.  
  
The General’s grey brows knitted together. He advanced towards the unfortunate officer who retreated slightly. “Yes tea, pot of. Go and sort out some tea for the Inspector and myself there’s a good chap.”  
  
The Captain blinked. “Yessir, right away sir.” He said and fled out of the room on the heels of the others. He didn’t stop to argue his apparent demotion to Tea Boy.  
  
The General sat down in the other chair and smiled charmingly at the Inspector. Anyone who liked Mugger couldn’t be all bad. “Now Inspector perhaps you’ll be good enough to fill me in on the details. Where are Major Matthews and the others?”  
  
ooOoo  
  
On a riverbank somewhere in the general vicinity of the known universe.....  
  
“If he says I can’t understand it one more time I think I’ll throttle him.” Kim muttered under her breath as they stood on the banks of a fairly wide fast-flowing river, which gurgled and chuckled its way over a stony river bed. She gazed longingly at the cool clear water and envisioned herself frolicking in it.  
  
The Chief snorted with laughter. “Well look on the bright side. At least we have something to drink now. Even if all signs of civilisation have disappeared.”  
  
Gary and Jim were having an earnest conversation a short distance away. The young policeman was now thoroughly upset. He didn’t recognise anything, the trees were still wrong and they hadn’t come across one single habitation. Chief saw Gary squeeze Jim’s shoulder reassuringly then he came over to where Kim and the Chief were sitting on the riverbank. Jim stayed where he was, head hanging low, obviously in great distress.  
  
“How is he?” The Chief asked Gary who shrugged.  
  
“As well as can be expected I suppose for someone who believes that his whole family have disappeared in an earthquake.” He said quietly. “What worries me more is the lack of any sign of civilisation whatsoever. No electricity pylons, no mobile phone masts, no tarmac roads of any description. If what Jim says is right and this is right where a village should be, why aren’t there any signs anything has ever been here? An earthquake wouldn’t just wipe a village off the map without a trace. There would be rubble, ruined houses, fires, dead bodies. So where are they?”  
  
“There are some as would say that the lack of mobile phone masts and electricity pylons is a great improvement.” The Chief remarked. “But I must admit that the silence and lack of anything is more than a bit eerie.”  
  
“There are no planes.” Kim suddenly announced out of the blue. They turned to look at her with bewildered expressions on their faces. She shrugged. “There’s normally light aircraft sounds or sounds of distant traffic, cars, even trains. You can hear them over quite a long distance. There haven’t been any at all. It’s like we’re the only people in the world. Nothing else exists.”  
  
Neither Gary nor the Chief had time to comment because Jim came running over towards them gesticulating wildly with his hand. “Get down, get down.” He hissed.  
  
Such was their level of hyper-vigilance they didn’t argue, but flung themselves flat in the high reeds and long grass that lined the bank of the river. They lay there in silence, hearts thumping furiously.  
  
After a few moments Gary turned his head looked at Jim enquiringly. “What did you see?” He whispered.  
  
Jim looked at him and Gary could see that the man’s eyes were hollow with fear. “They’re back.” He said.  
  
He didn’t need to elaborate further because the objects of his fear had appeared through the drooping willows on the opposite side of the bank. Kim gave a low sob of terror and buried her head in her arms and the Chief groaned softly in despair.  
  
Thadak and his motley crew of Orcs were standing only a river’s width away from them.  
  
“Oh Christ on a crutch.” Gary cursed under his breath. “That’s all we fucking need.”  
  
ooOoo  
  
(1) G1/G4 – British Military Department dealing with Security and Discipline.


	11. Enter the Valar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology  
is indistinguishable from magic.”  
Arthur C Clarke  
  
  
“What do you make of the tracks?”  
  
“Truly I do not know what to make of them. Apart from the fact that they are Orc tracks and that there is a great deal of confusion among them.”  
  
“Are we being followed?”  
  
“If we are then they are undoubtedly going the wrong way. I do not think they know we are even here.” Gildor dropped to his haunches and examined the ground intently. “At least one of them is carrying a heavy object.” He pointed to a set of tracks that had sunk deeper into the earth than the others. “That in itself is strange. Orcs do not usually carry many supplies. At least not so much that they are weighed down. Unless it is a captive of course.”  
  
Erestor sighed and mounted his horse. “I am not sure whether to be relieved that they appear to be going the opposite way or worried in case they are swinging around for an attack on our rear. Either way, we had best get back to the main column and make our report. It may be that the King orders us to track them, but I would have us report it first.”  
  
“I agree, I admit that I am curious as to know what they carry with them and why they seem to be so uncertain in their direction. Orcs are not usually given to indecision. If anything they are single-minded and relentless in their objectives, unless they are fighting among themselves.” Gildor also mounted and they both spurred their horses back along the track to the main part of Gil-galad’s merry band of Elven warriors.  
  
ooOoo  
  
Four leagues distant from Erestor and Gildor on the banks of the Sirion....  
  
“What are they doing?” The Chief whispered.  
  
“Nothing.” Gary said. “They’re just standing there looking around. I don’t think they saw us.”  
  
“So we just lie here until they get bored and go away?”  
  
Gary glared over at the Chief. “That’s my plan at the moment, unless you have a better one.”  
  
The Chief shook his head morosely. “I just feel like a sitting duck here. I think we should make an attempt to move before they decide to take a nice little paddle across the river and explore over here.”  
  
“Sir, take a look. One of them has an SA80.” Kim’s voice was infused with excitement. “It’s slung across his shoulder.”  
  
Gary cautiously lifted his head and peered through the reeds. Sure enough one of the bandy-legged uglies was sporting a nice assault rifle in plain view. Plain enough for Gary to see that the magazine wasn’t attached. The only use it would have in a fight of any kind was as a club, but for all he knew that was the creature’s main intention. He was also curious as to why this cross-eyed little fellow was the only one with a rifle. The others still carried their bows, arrows, swords and clubs.  
  
His curiosity was satisfied when their leader, or at least the large one that seemed to be their leader, spat out what sounded like a string of curses at the rifle wielding one. He then knocked him to the ground with such force that Gary heard the creature’s neck snap. A large heavy bundle dropped to the ground with a loud clatter and the SA80 slid from his shoulder and rolled down the bank slightly. It came to rest in the long grass next to a large boulder by the water’s edge just short of landing in the river itself.  
  
The dead creature’s companions had already begun to fall on his lifeless corpse with the clear intention of dismemberment and the leader had to exercise the ever-present violence that passed for his authority to stop them, but in doing so he failed to realise that the weapon was now concealed.  
  
A tiny flicker of hope ignited in Gary’s heart when he realised that. He held his breath and watched them as they scuffled with each other and were finally brought to obedience mainly by the flat of the large creature’s sword. Unfortunately nothing they said was intelligible so he had no idea what was being said. They spoke in a harsh guttural tongue which no softness to it, instead it was full of hard sounds, spitting consonants and glottal noises. It sounded utterly prehistoric, or what Gary imagined prehistoric speech would have sounded like.  
  
After a short while the leader pointed to the large unwieldy bundle that had fallen near where the dead creature had been standing and gestured at one of the others to pick it up accompanying the gesture with a short sharp bark of command. As he did so Gary spotted the familiar and distinctive grey metal and pale green of the missing assault weapons sticking out of the rough material they were wrapped in.  
  
The leader looked around him one last time, his glittering obsidian gaze swept across the opposite bank and through reeds and grass where Gary and the others lay hidden but even that sharp gaze didn’t detect the errant SA80 lying innocently in the grass by the river. He even sniffed the air, as if trying to seek them out by smell, the broad nostrils flaring even wider than they were normally and for a moment the dark brow knitted in confusion as if his senses had betrayed him somehow, then he grunted and turned away.  
  
Gary let out a long low sigh of relief. If it wasn’t damaged, then at least they had a weapon and he had a magazine with rounds in it, not to mention the advantage of knowing what to do with it. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.  
  
The creature jerked his arm peremptorily at the others and they all crashed back the way they came. Gary saw that the beautiful glowing man was still there with them but was now a lot more worse for wear and had obviously been the target for a vicious beating. He sported livid bruising down one cheek and the shoulder of his tunic was soaked in red, but he was still alive. He ran at the end of his leash, but his head hung low with exhaustion and the lustrous golden hair, now liberally streaked with blood, sweat and dirt, had been tied back with something. A slight shock roiled through Gary as he realised that the man’s ears curved gracefully upwards to a delicate and elegant point.  
  
I think he’s an elf sir. Kim’s words back in the hospital came tumbling back into his head making it spin with confusion. Beautiful captive men with pointed ears, primitive cannibalistic creatures stealing modern weapons, woods that changed magically the further they went, lack of any kind of modern civilisation and earthquakes. Nothing was making sense any more. It was almost as if they were somewhere else entirely instead of the English countryside and if that was the case, how the hell had they got there?  
  
The first little edge of the plan at the back of his mind to get to civilisation and instigate some sort of search disintegrated into nothing. It was slowly but surely beginning to dawn on him that Jim was absolutely right. Nothing here was as it should be.  
  
Wherever ‘here’ was.  
  
ooOoo  
  
The Halls of Manwe, Oiolosse, Aman...  
  
“Is this wise? For them to be there seems to me to be an unnecessary risk.”  
  
“Unnecessary.” It was a flat statement rather than a query. “Each decision that has been made regarding the Hither Lands is necessary and carries risks and consequences. We knew this when we heard Earendil and the decision was made to send aid. The consequences have already begun to occur, it is the price for that decision, our last intervention in the affairs of that place. All will be changed.”  
  
“And the rending of the fabric between planes of existence? Was this planned?”  
  
Lord Manwe Sulimo, Lord of the Breath of Arda, sighed, leaned his elbow on the arm of the bench he sat on and rested his chin on his hand. A light scented breeze wafted through the open marble halls and caressed Manwe and his wife the Lady Varda Elentari, she who is known to all Elves as Elbereth. It brought a gentle touch of joy to both of them.  
  
“I do not know, but I think not.” He said finally and reluctantly. “Yet not all of Eru Iluvator’s plan is revealed to me this time and I must seek counsel with him once again.”  
  
“I think I begin to see.” Varda sat down on the marble bench beside her husband. “It is my belief that the mortals were in the wrong place at the wrong time and the creatures of Morgoth were there because he knew what would happen when the changes began. He knows us too well, my husband. He saw an opportunity to seek a way into a time far in advance of the First Age to gain some advantage in a battle he knows that he must ultimately lose and now that intrusion must be corrected before it wreaks havoc on all and changes things beyond recall. Does Eonwe know of this? He is, after all, in command of the Host.”  
  
“Not yet.” Manwe admitted. “I had hoped at first that matters would resolve themselves naturally once the earth had settled, but too much has happened now. I will counsel him after I have spoken with Eru. The decision on what to do must rest with him for the moment.”  
  
“Can we give the mortals no protection?” Varda stared wistfully out into the far distance.  
  
“We cannot interfere further. Morgoth has already taken advantage of the changes being wrought in Ea for his own ends. Eru has allowed the mortals to pass through, but for what reason is presently hidden from my sight.” He touched his wife’s hand lovingly. “We must trust to Eru my beloved. There is a deep design in this, I know it in my heart.”  
  
Varda smiled and wound her slim fingers in his. “I trust.” She said. Her eyes twinkled roguishly. “But that does not mean I cannot light their way a little when all becomes too dark for them to see their path.”  
  
Lord Manwe Sulimo laughed softly and brushed a tender kiss over her hair. “Sometimes fleshly bodies have some pleasant uses.” He teased, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing each fingertip before letting it go. He stood up with a sigh. “I must seek counsel with Eru. We will continue this later my Lady of Starlight.”  
  
Varda watched him walk away, his soft footfalls making no sound on the cool white floors. As he walked he shed the flesh that he and all the Valar used when interacting with the Elda and moving around in their company, yet his shining spirit was still plain to her as it always was. She waited until he had entered consultation with Eru and then turned her attention to the Hither Lands.  
  
A gentle hand sent a light stream of starlight which settled around the four mortals from a different age on the riverbank and concealed them from the evil of Morgoth in the shape of his creatures. It would at least give them time to realise what had happened to them and a brief time to decide upon their next actions.  
  
That much she could do for them.  
  
ooOoo  
  
The tent of Eonwe, Herald of Manwe, Commander of the Host of the Valar, somewhere in North Beleriand.....  
  
“What troubles you?”  
  
Eonwe glanced up from the table where maps of Ea were spread. “Something is afoot.” He admitted. “Four mortals from another time have been admitted to this Age. Mortals who do not belong here, yet it has been allowed and for what purpose we do not know.”  
  
Tulcas moved restlessly around the spacious tent. “Manwe has told you this?”  
  
Eonwe nodded. He moved to a small table and poured himself and Tulcas a glass of wine from a flagon kept relatively cool in icy water. Tulcas laughed softly and took the wine, swilling the deep golden liquid around in the goblet and taking a deep appreciative sniff of the bouquet.  
  
“Very nice.” He remarked after taking a sip. “Of course this is a complete indulgence on our part, you know? We do not really need sustenance of this kind in order to survive.”  
  
Eonwe gave a soft chuckle. “Nevertheless it is one of the nicer aspects of having a fleshly body.”  
  
“What do you intend to do about these mortals?”  
  
“I have been told to do nothing as yet and we are not to hinder their progress.” Eonwe sighed and took a large gulp of his wine. He shook his head in exasperation. “I have been told that this matter is extraneous to our quest here, but my heart tells me that there is more going on. I have requested permission to go and see these ‘wandering mortals’ for myself and Lord Manwe has reluctantly given it.”  
  
Tulcas frowned. “You will ride all the way back? You command the host Eonwe, to leave them without a leader…”  
  
“Not without a leader.” Eonwe interrupted. “Manwe has given permission for me to shed my flesh to travel in spirit and thought. It will take but a few moments to reach them and assess how much of a problem they will be.”  
  
“Hmm.” Tulcas fixed the Herald with a penetrating gaze. “We do not know their purpose here and you cannot interfere?”  
  
Eonwe shook his head. “No. They are to travel on unhindered and their purpose is part of Eru’s plan of which he has not seen fit to enlighten Lord Manwe.”  
  
Tulcas put his goblet down and stood up. “You should not go alone. I could travel with you also.”  
  
“I cannot leave the host without a leader even for the short time it will take me to travel back to them and return here.” Eonwe said firmly. “You must stay and act in my stead, just in case. I do not intend to go alone. I will take Curunir with me.”  
  
Tulcas nodded. “As you wish little one.” He got to his feet and stretched. “Keeping a fleshly appearance can have its problems. These muscles, flesh and sinews have a way of becoming stiff.”  
  
Eonwe raised an eyebrow. “Something that I would have imagined a divine Ainur should be well able to combat without resorting to physical exercises. And please do not call me ‘little one’. It makes me sound like an elfling who has just finished sucking at his mother’s breast not a powerful Maia and the Herald of Manwe.” He finished crossly.  
  
Tulcas’ loud rumbling laugh rattled through the tent. “Point taken my Lord Herald.” He bowed deeply but looked up with a twinkle in his eyes. “Far be it from me to belittle the Maia who is greatest in arms and the Commander of the Host. Just do one thing for me and be careful please. I will look after the troops while you are gone.”  
  
Eonwe gave a reluctant chuckle. “You are worse than a mother hen. I will be fine and back before you know it. And in one piece.” He added for good measure.  
  
A tall warrior spoke softly from the tent entrance. “My Lord Eonwe, Curunir is here as you requested.”  
  
“Indeed. Show him in. Lord Tulcas was just leaving.” He poked Tulcas, who was showing every sign of settling himself back in, with a surreptitious elbow.  
  
Tulcas jumped slightly and gave Eonwe a quizzical smile. “I was? Oh, yes, I was. Just leaving.” He shouldered his way past the warrior and left the tent whistling a merry tune.  
  
Moments later a tall white-haired Maia with burning dark eyes entered. “You wished to see me?” His tone was sharp and peremptory and he gave no courtesy to the Herald.  
  
Eonwe felt a flash of irritation. This was ever typical of Curunir, he constantly hovered just on the edge of insolence. An insolence that was more masked when in the company of any of the Valar, but still there. With his fellow Maia he made little effort. However, this time it suited Eonwe to let it go, but his answer gave no more courtesy than he had received. “Yes you will accompany me on a small trip this night and we go in spirit, not fleshly form.”  
  
Curunir looked annoyed. “There are many things that I need to prepare before we meet Morgoth it battle. Can this little trip not wait?”  
  
Eonwe drew himself to his full height, which was considerable, and allowed the glow of his being to infuse his physical form. “This is a command Curunir, it is not open for negotiation. Maia of Aule you may be, but under my command here in this place you will obey me without question.” His tone was soft, but left Curunir in doubt as to the fact that he expected instant obedience.  
  
“As you command my Lord Herald.” Curunir’s tone took on a falsely deferential note. He wasn’t stupid, he knew when shows of arrogance would not get him anywhere and certainly not with Eonwe, who undoubtedly held a lot more authority than he did.  
  
“Good. We leave after the evening watch has been set. Come here and we will leave quietly.” Eonwe settled himself back down at the map table with another goblet of wine. He did not offer Curunir any but instead gave him a diffident wave of the hand. “You have my permission to leave.”  
  
Curunir bowed, hand over his heart. His expression was serene, but his dark eyes burned with resentment. Some day he would show them all that he, Curunir, was worthy of being granted power and respect of his own, and not merely that granted by serving the Elder King and he would laugh in the face of that sycophant Eonwe.  
  
He stormed through the camp and warriors scattered nervously left and right, not willing to upset the Maia who, it was rumoured, was capable of some rather dubious and not very pleasant acts.


	12. Mirror, mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst on an army training exercise in the Mendip Hills a party of soldiers discover that there is something very nasty deep in the forest with disastrous results. In an attempt to investigate One of the survivors, a British Army Major, a Warrant Officer and a police constable ultimately embark on a mission which will change their lives forever. Set during the War of Wrath.

“Teamwork is essential -- it gives the enemy other people to shoot at.”  
\- Murphys Law of Combat Operations  
  
  
The hazy afternoon was beginning to draw to a close; their third afternoon in the wild of the willow wood and food was now non-existent, although the water from the river ran clear, cold and refreshing. Still, both Gary and Chief knew that whilst they could survive on just water for a few days, eventually they would suffer from lack of food. Kim already looked weary and overstretched although she said nothing to anyone and never complained.  
  
Jim was the one who worried Gary the most now. He had been uncharacteristically silent since they had sat down and discussed their situation. In the discussion they had all finally admitted that none of them believed they were still in the Forest of Dean, but as to where they actually were, this was still a complete mystery. Gary believed that it was this admission that finally pushed the young policeman over the edge and it was only Gary’s and Chief’s assurance that wherever they were, it was so far away from Coleford and Jim’s home that there was likely no damage done by the earth tremors had stopped him from having a complete breakdown. Although Gary would have been hard put to justify that opinion with any hard facts. Jim seemed calmer after that, but had not spoken since unless directly spoken to.  
  
The truth was that they were stuck in the middle of ‘god only knew’ where with no food and nothing to keep them warm. After the prehistoric creatures had left with the weapons and dragging the Elf man behind them, Gary and the others had cautiously left their hiding place. The Chief had volunteered to cross the river and fetch the SA80 and to their delight it was still in reasonable working order. They now had one weapon and a magazine with twenty rounds in it, although Gary had decided that they needed this for protection rather than to hunt with it.  
  
The thing that had unnerved them all the most was the Chief’s report that he had no idea how those things hadn’t seen them. The reeds had looked thick and concealing from their side of the river, but once over the other side anyone hiding among them was in fairly plain view.  
  
“Perhaps they’re naturally short-sighted.” Kim suggested, slapping at a couple of midges that had landed on her arm. “No food, but plenty of insect life.” She mourned. “They’re going to eat me alive.”  
  
The Chief gave a snort of laughter. “Better the midges than those creatures.”  
  
“That’s true.” She slipped her combat jacket back on to try and deter them from feeding on her.  
  
“I don’t think their leader is short-sighted.” Gary said quietly. “Quite the contrary. Still I suppose we’d better just thank our lucky stars that they didn’t spot us. Perhaps the sun was in their eyes or something. Our camouflage clothing would have helped too.” He took a sip of water from Chief’s hip flask and handed it to Jim who drank but said nothing other than offering his thanks. “We need to find some food and tonight we need to make a fire. It’s still warm here now despite it being late afternoon, but the temperature drops considerably at night and I think we need to take the risk.”  
  
“I agree.” Chief stretched his left leg out and massaged the knee, wincing slightly as he did so. “As for food, I would normally suggest hunting some small game, except there isn’t any.” He looked at Gary. “Did you ever do any survival training Sir?”  
  
Gary nodded. “On the Brecon Beacons (1) . I did it with two SAS (2) blokes and they nearly killed me. It was a toss up which I hated more, them or the weather. I think the weather won by a hair’s breadth. It pissed down the entire time, when it wasn’t blowing a gale. Why do you ask?”  
  
“I was just thinking that between us we might be able to detect which plants and fruits around here are edible and which aren’t. I remember that my survival instructor was quite well versed in herbal lore and there are some things you never forget. Being lectured until your brains spill out of your ears is one of them. Somewhere along the line some of that infernal stuff must have sunk in.”  
  
“Good idea.” Gary gave him an approving look. “What I suggest is that we continue heading along the river and look for likely food items as we go. Judging by where the sun is beginning to go down, we should be heading north.”  
  
“North-west.” Jim suddenly interrupted. “My watch has a compass on it and if things aren’t too screwed up or different here, then we’re heading north-west.”  
  
Gary smiled at him. “Welcome back, north-west it is. My reasons for heading along the river are because as I said before, settlements and villages are generally built near water. We need a town or some sort of civilisation, however basic it is, to try and get some sort of help. I think we should camp up tonight, make a small fire and find whatever we can to eat; roots, berries, whatever. Tomorrow we start out bright and early and we head along the banks in search of ‘friendlies’. We have one weapon, so we’re not completely defenceless, but we must assume that those creatures are doing the same as we are so we will probably cross paths again at some stage. We all need to keep our eyes peeled for hostiles.”  
  
Kim put her hand up tentatively and Gary raised an eyebrow at her. “Could we…is it possible that we…I could swim in the river Sir? I feel so scruffy and my feet are still a bit sore.”  
  
Garry nodded. “Good idea. It’s important for us to stay as clean as we can in case of blisters, small cuts or whatever. Infection can set in pretty quickly and we have no first aid kit, no antiseptic and no access to modern medical facilities. We’ll have three bathing parties. Ladies first, of course.” He gave Kim a little bow and she grinned at him. “Sgt Freeman, you can have the first party and we’ll all turn our backs to preserve your maidenly modesty, but we do need to stand guard on those bathing. Chief and Jim will go next and I will go last.”  
  
“Segregated bathing for officers and ladies?” Chief remarked with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Kim’s maidenly modesty I can understand, but what do you have that’s different to the rest of us sir?”  
  
They all laughed, including Jim. Gary had the grace to blush. “I have no defence to make other than I’m perfectly normal in all respects and have nothing different to any other bloke. Unless we’re talking about size of course, then we all know that officers have much more in that area, the extra length and girth comes from the brains they remove from us at Sandhurst (3) . It’s generally considered among the ranks that most officers keep their brains in their balls anyway.”  
  
Chief nodded sagely. “That’s what I said sir, no brains and big bollocks.” He turned to Kim who was giggling furiously. “You just keep your gaze averted Miss Freeman, especially when Major Balls…er Matthews, is cavorting naked in the water. We don’t want any eyes being poked out.”  
  
Kim collapsed in hysterics; Gary and Jim chuckled.  
  
“I’m sure it wouldn’t be her eyes I’d be aiming for.” Gary said sotto voce with a sly grin. Everyone howled with laughter and Kim blushed even more at the inference. “So it’s settled then. We find a likely place to camp, see what food items we can scrape up from the land and while Kim is bathing we can make a fire so that at least we have somewhere to warm up once we’re all clean. We have no towels remember and I would suggest we try to avoid putting dry clothes over wet bodies.”  
  
“And we’ll just ignore the fact that we’re putting filthy clothes on clean bodies.” Chief quipped.  
  
Gary shook his head. “I didn’t say it was ideal Chief.” He said mildly. “But until we can locate some alternative clothing and get this stuff clean, it’s all we can manage.”  
  
“We could wash the stuff.” Kim suggested. “But we’d need a nice warm sunny day and we’d have to just wait around until they dried. In olden times they used to beat laundry against the rocks, they didn’t have laundry detergent or soap.”  
  
Gary sighed. “Another good idea, but I think we’ll go a bit further on tomorrow and see if we hit a village of some kind. If not, then we take a day and do as Kim suggests.”  
  
Chief cast a glance at Kim. She was busy picking a scab off her arm and he slapped her hand away making her look up in indignation. “Leave it alone young lady or I’ll tie your fucking hands up.” He threatened. “If you make that raw and get it infected I’ll be bloody annoyed.”  
  
“As will I.” Gary said sternly and Kim blushed furiously at being caught out. “Let’s head further along and find somewhere to camp before the light goes. Chief, would you take Tail-end Charlie again?”  
  
Chief nodded. “On the understanding that should our disgusting friends double back on us and stab me from behind I reserve the right to haunt you for the rest of your life.”  
  
“Consider it understood Chief.” Gary grinned. He hefted the SA80 onto his arm, snapped the magazine in place and they resumed their path along the river.  
  
The Chief caught at Kim’s arm as they walked and she gave him a querying look. “What’s up sir?”  
  
Now it was the Chief’s turn to blush. “Well, I don’t know how to put this except directly. When was the date of your last period?”  
  
Kim looked outraged. “Chief! That’s very personal.”  
  
“Yes I know, but since I haven’t seen a Boots the Chemist (4) anywhere for the last few willow trees and bends in the river, I’m assuming that sanitary towels or tampons will be in pretty short supply around here. We need to think ahead.”  
  
Her face fell as the stark realisation of her predicament hit her. “Oh fuck.”  
  
“Precisely.” Agreed the Chief with a small smile. “But I don’t think fucking will help our situation, although getting pregnant would certainly put paid to the monthly bleeding! Not that I am offering you understand, happily married man and all that.”  
  
“I remember seeing some programme where they said that women in olden days used special cloths which they washed and re-used.” She shuddered slightly. “It all sounds so disgusting and primitive.”  
  
“Primitive, but practical. We need to get some cloth from somewhere to rip up then. Let’s give it some thought and see what we come up with. Now, when was your last period?”  
  
She thought for a moment, counted off on her fingers and her face lightened a bit. “Unless the shock of all this brings it on early, then I have another six days before I’m due again.”  
  
A feeling of relief spread over the Chief. “Good, at least that gives us a bit of breathing space before we need to worry. As for the shock bringing it on, it might be just as likely to stop them altogether. Just keep an eye on things and come to me if there’s a problem. I’ve got daughters and I’m more likely to understand than those two buggers ahead of us.”  
  
Kim nodded. “I will.” On impulse she reached up and kissed Chief on the cheek. “Thank you Chief, you’re a doll.”  
  
Now it was his turn to blush.  
  
ooOoo  
  
The throne room of Morgoth, Thangorodrim....  
  
Even from as far north as the Iron Mountain where Morgoth had created Thangorodrim, the shadow cast forth by his evil intent crept with eldritch fingers and insinuated itself into the places of light.  
  
The Host of the Valar had driven much of this evil before them it was true, yet what was left behind was not cleansed of all of it. Pockets of the shadow still lay over the land, causing a fell air and oppressive atmosphere in places that had been previously been filled with growth, cleanliness and luminance.  
  
The tramp of iron-clad feet and the animal-like cruelty and lust of his Orcs did not help matters and there were still parties of them roaming around where Eonwe and his warriors had swept through. They were just not as numerous as before.  
  
Thadak and his minions were one of these parties. They had concealed themselves from the fierce and unbearably fair Elven warriors with their long shining spears, bows and curved knives. Morgoth, whilst seeking some weakness in the armour of the host, came upon them by chance and sent an emissary with new orders for them. An emissary who could shed his flesh like the Maiar of Aman quite simply because he was a Maiar.  
  
At the same time the changes in the very essence of Ea became crystal clear to Morgoth. As he observed the fabric that divided the worlds begin to grow transparent, certain aspects of the other world also became crystal clear and he saw his opportunity to act. He saw the group of soldiers, he saw that one was female, he also saw their weapons and was amazed at the power and simplicity of the concept. His orders to Sauron, his Lieutenant, were clear and the orders passed down to Thadak were equally clear.  
  
They were to pass through the fabric where two worlds collided, seek out the weapons of that world and bring them back. They were also to capture one of the Elven warriors with golden hair, one of the Vanyar, and bring him back also for the purpose of breeding and experiment. They could do as they wished with the mortals from the other world and use the female as they wished.  
  
Clearly, things had gone very wrong. The female had avoided capture, albeit unknowingly, and had sought assistance from the rest of her kind. Instead of leaving immediately before the tremors which had subsequently sealed the split in the fabric between worlds rent the earth in the other world, the fools had lingered, still seeking the prize of the female. She had brought back others in pursuit of the weapons and all had been thrown together, with the mortals now on the wrong side of the barrier. As a result of this series of events, Thadak and his people were now confused and lost. Almost as confused and lost as Gary and his tiny group were.  
  
A veil which not even Morgoth had been able to penetrate or dissipate, had been thrown around the woods and was preventing them from leaving with their booty. It also had the effect of preventing the mortals from leaving, but that was neither here nor there. Morgoth had no interest in them beyond the fact that they knew how to make the weapons work and he was assured that there were those among his followers who could soon find that out. He assumed that, puny as they undoubtedly were, the mortals would soon fall prey to the cruelty of what he felt was the superior group or even just inability to survive without resources.  
  
He had been wrong. They had proved unreasonably resilient and resourceful and Morgoth saw his advantage slipping away like so much sand through his fingers.  
  
The Dark One’s rage could be both heard and felt throughout Thangorodrim. Orcs, prisoners and Maiar alike cringed and tried to make themselves small and unnoticeable. He summoned Sauron immediately and they went into conference.  
  
“We must seek a way to break through the veil thrown around the woods so that Thadak can bring the weapons and the Elf to you.” Sauron said. “There may be those near whose darker thoughts can be used to carry your intent, create a channel for your…ah…suggestions. We must seek them out. Perhaps the younger mortal male. His thoughts are black indeed. The grief he carries has settled around him like a dark mantle.”  
  
Morgoth sat back on his throne, the remaining Silmarils still glowed in the crown on his head but the light had a reddish look to it, as though his deep evil had contaminated the pure white light of the Two Trees, Laurelin and Telperion, which Feanor had encapsulated in the gems. A gaping indentation in the Iron Crown showed where the Silmaril recovered by Beren and Luthien had once rested.  
  
His laugh was not a pleasant sound. “Indeed you are right. Perhaps the young mortal would serve as an appropriate channel.  
  
However now, as he watched the spirits of the Maiar Eonwe and Curunir approach the place where the mortals had camped, the discontent and ambition of the one called Curunir shone as clearly to Morgoth as did Eonwe’s inherent purity.  
  
A hiss of satisfaction escaped through the mask of a face that Morgoth wore. Using the Maia of Aule, sent by that puling fool Manwe from that accursed isle, as a channel would be so much more successful than using a mere mortal. The core of blackness that ran through the one who accompanied the Herald ran fathoms deep and, as Morgoth’s rage had swept through his stronghold and caused fear, his laughter now echoed and that fear became unspeakable and too hideous to contemplate.  
  
Sauron saw all and made obeisance to his dark master. Ambition and a lust for great power sat like a black spider in his heart also, however if he had nothing else, he had time and immense patience.  
  
His chance for greatness and power would come. Perhaps not as soon as he would have wished, but it would come.  
  
The tent of Eonwe, North Beleriand....  
  
Eonwe sat alone in his darkened tent. Only the soft blue glow from one of the special lamps invented by the Noldor illuminated the immediate area where he was seated and for that he was grateful. It meant that if anyone did seek entrance they would not see the expression of dull shock he was sure still lurked in the back of his eyes.  
  
The trip to see the ‘wandering mortals’ as he had come to think of them had been relatively uneventful at first, although Curunir had been a sullen companion. The trouble had arisen when Eonwe had caught a glimpse of one of the mortals as he stepped out of the shadow briefly from his position as guard.  
  
At first Eonwe only had the impression of a tall man dressed in strange clothing. Even as he moved into a slim beam of light cast down through the trees by a high yellow moon, his face was illuminated only for a moment and the facial features were hidden in shadow again almost immediately.  
  
The mortal had turned with an expression of concern, as though he had heard something suspicious.  
  
“Who’s there?” His voice was deep and quite melodious especially for one of the secondborn. His speech was strangely accented yet Eonwe found he could understand most of what he was saying. “Step forward and identify yourself.” He demanded and for a moment Eonwe wondered what the mortal would do if he clad himself in flesh and suddenly appeared before him.  
  
Then he noticed that he had something cradled in his arms. A something that he lifted to his shoulder and pointed into the darkness in the general direction of where Eonwe hovered.  
  
“Identify yourself or I’ll open fire.” He said softly but in an unmistakable tone of command.  
  
Eonwe cast around hastily for Curunir, but he had moved over to look at the others who were asleep. He felt slightly bewildered, surely the mortal could not see him?  
  
Then the man stepped fully into the moonlight that flooded through a gap in the canopy of trees above and if Eonwe had possessed lungs and vocal chords at that moment he wouldn’t have been able to prevent a hiss of surprise and shock from escaping.  
  
The man’s face was plain to see in the moonlight and it was like looking into a mirror image of himself in fleshly form.  
  
ooOoo  
  
Notes:  
  
Brecon Beacons, North Wales. An area used as a training ground by the British Military. Known for its inhospitable and very inclement weather in winter.  
  
SAS – Special Air Services, British Army special forces unit  
  
Sandhurst – Royal Military Academy in Camberley, Surrey, England. A training school for officers.  
  
Boots the Chemist, a well known chain of pharmacists in the United Kingdom.


End file.
